Blood and Souls
by vasalysa
Summary: Reunited after Anvil, the 58th have a new CO. What does she want?
1. Blood and Souls, Chapter One

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are theproperty of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox BroadcastingNetwork. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17 (slash - in later chapters, can be skipped, warning will be issued with the chapter), violence, and lots of graphic sex in later chapters.  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter One  
  
Aboard the space carrier, U.S.S. Saratoga, the 58th Marine Air Cavalry squadron filed into the briefing room with jokes and laughter. Damage from the previous week's heavy battle with the Chig enemy had left its mark on the room. Instead of a view of the cockpit docking area, the shattered glass wall had been replaced with steel. Only the lights in the front of the room were functional, leaving the rear of the room, back by the temporary steel wall, in darkness and shadows.  
  
From the shadows, an unseen observer studied the two men and two women, all in their lower twenties, as they took their seats. The time had arrived to match the information from personnel dossiers to real people.  
  
A tall, older man with cropped short, white blond hair limped into the room and the laughter stilled.  
  
"Atten-HUT!" barked one of the women.  
  
Snapping to attention, the young men and women waited for the man to speak.  
  
The older man limped over to the desk and perched on it. "Be seated."  
  
The observer paid close attention to the older man, Lt. Colonel T. C. McQueen. The six foot tall colonel was an Invitro, having been decanted fifteen years ago fully grown from a growth tank, hence the derogatory name most people referred to Invitroes as, tanks. He had risen far for a freed slave, or rather what polite society called an indentured servant. Most Inutero humans, known as natural borns or NBs, tended to treat the IVs like slaves whether they had served their term of forced indentured servitude or not.  
  
McQueen's pale blue eyes swept the four Marines and he sighed softly. "Listen up. I have some bad news. I am no longer allowed to go on missions with you."  
  
"Because of your leg, sir?" asked one of the women, a brunette with sharp features. Captain Shane Vansen, leader of the squad, honcho on all missions without the colonel. She was the shortest of the group, around five foot four.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Are they replacing you completely, sir?" This came from a ruggedly handsome young man that the watcher knew was also an Invitro, who was actually two or three inches taller than McQueen. Lt. Cooper Hawkes, the, finally, decorated war hero. The chestnut hair fell to the seven year old's shoulders. His early life had been marginally better than the colonel's, not having served in the off world mines like McQueen.  
  
"No. HQ is sending a Lt. Col. Silver to be my 'legs'." Bitterness tinged McQueen's voice.  
  
"Is this colonel to fly with us?" This question from the other young man, Capt. Nathan West, running a hand through his short brown hair. He leaned forward, his six foot frame taut with tension.  
  
"Yes and any other activities off the Saratoga. The report says the colonel is well qualified."  
  
"Yeah, like the last one. He damned near got us killed." Lt. Vanessa Damphousse, known as 'Phousse to her friends, was a dark skinned beauty at five and a half feet tall. "It's bad enough we lost Paul to the Chigs. We don't want to lose you too, sir." She sat hunched in her chair.  
  
"I appreciate that, but orders are orders. I hate to turn you over to someone else who doesn't understand you. You're not like the other squadrons."  
  
"Yeah, we like our IVs." This came from West, in a resigned mutter. "No one wants us, so they give us to the fuck ups." He glanced up at the colonel, hurriedly. "Not you, sir."  
  
"And not Commodore Ross." McQueen glared at the squadron. "Look, you are going to give Colonel Silver a chance."  
  
Nods were given and McQueen told them they were dismissed. All but Hawkes trailed out. He stepped up beside the colonel. "Sir?" The door closed behind Damphousse.  
  
"Yes, Hawkes?"  
  
"Why can't you come with us?" It came out as a child's cry.  
  
McQueen hesitated, then placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "I wish I could. But they don't trust the technology that works my leg."  
  
"Then why give it to you?"  
  
"Because then I couldn't be here with you at all. Being with the lot of you only some of the time is better than none of the time." The watcher caught the glint of tears in McQueen's eyes. "I would rather share you than never have you."  
  
"You won't go away on us?"  
  
"Not voluntarily. You know that."  
  
Hawkes nodded. "Ok."  
  
"Now go on. Get out of here."  
  
McQueen waited until Hawkes had left before sliding off the desk into the chair. Dropping his head down onto his folded arms, he allowed himself the luxury of cursing fate, struggling to keep the tears from falling. He forced himself to stop after a couple of minutes, aware that others could enter the room at any time. With a stiffness he had concealed on entering the room, McQueen limped from the briefing room, unaware that anyone had seen him.  
  
The watcher waited several minutes before stepping out of the shadows. Light glinted on the name pin. Lt. Colonel L. Silver. Shoulder length brown hair so dark it was nearly black framed a plain face that had seen its share of tragedy. The tall, slim female glided to the other door of the room. Soft footsteps carried her out into the noisy hall.  
  
The blue-grey eyes constantly roamed, noting details as Silver made her way through the crowded corridors and elevators to Commodore Ross' quarters. Silver absently acknowledged salutes, her conscious mind busy going over the scene in the briefing room. She would have to tread lightly with this group. Tearing them apart was not in her plan.  
  
Silver knew McQueen was lucky to have four out of five of his squadron alive. After the fiasco of the 'peace talks', three of the 58th had been considered MIA. The two women's ISSCV had been disabled and had fallen back onto the enemy's home planet Anvil. Paul Wang, it was pretty certain, had died when a Chig fighter he had disabled had flown into his detached cargo unit. West and Hawkes, carrying colonists that the Chigs had agreed to release as part of the 'peace talks', had been forced to leave their comrades behind to unknown fates.  
  
Silver knew what it was like to not know for certain. People from her own past were missing. There had been a chance that Vansen and Damphousse were still alive.  
  
It had taken West and Hawkes exactly one week to work out a way to return to Anvil. The hijacked Aerotech transport had plenty of capacity and rudimentary medical facilities. The two men had gone AWOL for over a week. When they had returned, it was with Vansen and Damphousse, broken in body but not spirit. Somehow, Commodore Ross, the commander of the U.S.S. Saratoga, had managed to keep the two young men from being court martialed.  
  
West and Hawkes had spent the three months of the women's recovery flying with other squadrons aboard the Saratoga. Both young men had been exposed to a great deal of hatred and malice since their squadron had inadvertently revealed to the Chigs the humans' plan to annihilate the planet that the Chigs used as a nursery. It wasn't their fault no one had ever seen a Chig out of armor. The possibility of an ally against the Chigs had been their motivation. It had led to the so called 'peace talks' and the fiasco of that was still reverberating through the human hierarchy. Several of the military and civilian leaders had died during the 'peace talks.'  
  
McQueen had returned to the Saratoga a month ago to be greeted by four eager squad members. And in that month, the artificial leg that Aerotech had given McQueen had started malfunctioning every so often. Just enough that McQueen could not fly or go on missions.  
  
The memory of the first time she had seen him flitted through her mind. Visiting a friend, Gayle, while on Earth, she had allowed herself to be dragged to the Loxley bar, ostensibly for drinks, but Gayle had wanted to show off the Angry Angels, the 127th. As the best flying Marine squadron had filed into the bar, Silver had found her gaze arrested by the one that split off and sat at the bar, alone. Tall, powerful, silver blond hair, crystal blue eyes that she wanted to drown in, she could barely tear her eyes off him to ask Gayle who he was.  
  
"That's Captain McQueen. Just joined a few months ago. He's already in the top three. Apparently he was captured during the AI War and tortured. As soon as he recovered, he was tested and sent to the 127th. He's a loner. But he's also a tank."  
  
Silver had looked at Gayle. "A tank?" It hurt to know that such a free soul had been so emotionally hamstrung. "And he's in the Marines? How the hell did he manage that?"  
  
"Don't know, but there's some Navy Seal that's been keeping tabs on McQueen."  
  
She had done her research that night, desperate to know the worst. It was bad, so very bad. Omicron Draconis, the plutonium mines; hell in other words. He had been shipped there before he was even a week old. Five years of overwork, little food, little care, and lots of abuse, physical and mental. That he had survived said a lot for his character and strength of will. Then a stint in the Army as a munitions handler and a near court martial over striking a superior officer. Then he had entered the Marines, excelling at flying and ground work. His capture by the AIs had left him scarred, emotionally and physically. Now, he had gained some recognition as a valuable resource.  
  
In the morning, knowing that the Angels were to fly an early sortie, she had waited out on the flight line, near his Hammerhead, hidden from sight. He strode into view, swinging his helmet in one hand. Any other man would have been whistling, bouncing, showing their eagerness to be back in the air. His only sign was the slightest of bounces to his walk, barely noticeable. He had spotted a flock of geese flying overhead and paused, lifting his head to follow their flight. The look of longing on his face had cut like a knife through her. Bringing his eyes back down to the Hammerhead, he had smiled briefly and reached out to touch the metal, obviously acknowledging it was the only way he would achieve such freedom.  
  
From then on, she had kept tabs on him, even from the depths of space. She still remembered the picture Gayle had sent to her a month ago. McQueen had been through three months of grueling surgeries and physical therapy to attach the artificial leg and learn to use it. One of the places he had gone to as soon as he could walk on his own was the flight terminal. There, Gayle had snapped a picture of the dejected man, unable to fly due to the damage to his inner ear from the first battle with the Chigs, but desperate for the sight.  
  
Aerotech had used McQueen as a poster boy, promoting their artificial limbs.  
  
Damning Aerotech, Silver saw she was nearing Commodore Glen Ross' quarters. Odds were that McQueen would be there. Her sources had informed her that the two men were close. Still damning Aerotech, Silver grimaced. If the mega-corp hadn't given McQueen a faulty artificial leg to replace the real one he had lost in the 'peace talks' defending an Aerotech man of all things, she wouldn't be on the Saratoga now. Fate was a funny thing.  
  
She raised her hand to knock and heard voices within. Curiosity made her pause.  
  
"Dammit, Ross! I won't give up those kids! They're mine!" Anger in the rich tenor voice.  
  
"Ty, I know you don't want anyone else to handle them, but dammit, with that malfunctioning piece of crap they call an artificial leg, you're not fully functional." Rational.  
  
"I'm not a machine, Glen." Indignant.  
  
"I know that. But that leg doesn't work right all the time. And the last thing those kids of yours need is to have to worry about your sorry ass because it stopped working. Ty, use your head, not your heart, about this. Please." Pleading.  
  
"I'm sorry, Glen. I know I can't go with them."  
  
"You care for them, Ty, and it was the only way to get through to them. They're the best damn pilots we've got, and, as far as I'm concerned, they're better than the Angry Angels ever were."  
  
"Yes, at least they've survived this long."  
  
"Look, Ty, give Colonel Silver a chance."  
  
"What do you know about the colonel?"  
  
"Not much. I-"  
  
Time to interrupt. Silver knocked, ready to resume the mission, and the game, once more.  
  
"Come."  
  
Silver opened the hatch and snapped to attention before the dark skinned man standing, in a Navy commodore's uniform, chewing on a cigar. "Lt. Colonel Silver, reporting, sir."  
  
"At ease. How long you been aboard?" Ross frowned slightly. He thought Silver was not supposed to be aboard for another two hours.  
  
"One hour, sir." Before he could ask the next question, Silver shifted her weight slightly and said, "I had my orders, sir. I was to search out and study the unit involved before I reported to you. And I'm not allowed to say who gave that order. When I accepted this post," she saw McQueen start, "I knew there would be trouble. A lot of people immediately started to bad mouth the 58th to me. So, I dug up everything I could find and figured out why."  
  
"Why do they badmouth war heroes?" demanded McQueen.  
  
She looked over at McQueen, meeting his angry gaze, pretending she did not know him. "They're jealous and prejudiced. Jealous and prejudiced people do stupid things."  
  
"Why are they jealous?" Ross leaned against the wall, frowning slightly.  
  
Silver gave the commodore a slight smile. "The 58th has a CO that gives a damn, who does his damnest against all odds to bring his people home, alive. That CO has a ranking officer willing to overlook the bending of the rules as much as he can. They have a squadron of young, talented people will be running the show in ten years. These same young Marines are the best squadron the Marines, or any other U.S. forces, have."  
  
"Who offered you the post?" Ross chewed on his cigar.  
  
"A friend actually. I had let General McIntyre know that I would be willing to be attached to the 58th some time ago. When he saw a proposal to retire Colonel McQueen from the front," she did not turn to face McQueen who had shot to his feet in shock, "he countered it, Commodore, arguing that Colonel McQueen's expertise and knowledge was far more useful here on the front than behind a desk. When it was then proposed that the 58th be broken up and spread throughout the Fleet, he pulled every string he could and vetoed it, barely. He managed to wrangle a deal for a second CO to be assigned, listing the possibility of my becoming the primary. Of course, neither he or I intend for that to happen. My orders in fact reflect that I am only a second CO."  
  
"Why did you accept such a hazardous duty?" asked Ross.  
  
Silver grinned. "I love a challenge, sir. And I don't want the 58th broken up. If that means I have to join it and become a pariah, so be it. I've been in the Corps fifteen years now, sir, and I don't think I could serve with a finer bunch."  
  
"So what did your study of the squadron tell you?" Ross watched as McQueen sank back down in his chair, still shocked.  
  
"Excuse me, sir, but," Silver to face McQueen. "You are Lt. Colonel McQueen, aren't you?"  
  
"Sorry. Lt. Colonel Silver, Lt. Colonel McQueen." Ross made the introductions.  
  
McQueen nodded, his head dropping slightly so he was not looking up at Silver's face.  
  
"Colonel, I do not intend to take your kids away. I want to protect them as much as you do. And despite what it sounds like, there are people who recognize the way things should be." She reached out and gently tilted his head up, managing to hide the smile as he tried to jerk his head away from her touch. His blue eyes hardened and she let her fingers slide out from under his jaw, reveling in the slight feel of his five o'clock shadow. "If what I saw and heard at that briefing room ten minutes ago is any indication," she saw the sudden panic in his eyes, "no one is going to break up the 58th with any thing less than a tactical nuke."  
  
"How?" McQueen searched her face. He had seen no one else in the room.  
  
"I'll let you know some day, when I know YOU better." She fully intended to get to know the man and soul behind the pale sapphire eyes. She had to for her own sake. Silver turned back to Ross. "Sir, I also brought the latest mission objectives." Silver handed the optical disk over to the commodore and turned back to McQueen. "I understand the 58th suffered a recent loss. A Lt. Wang."  
  
"Yes."  
  
She heard the sorrow and the pain. "Where and how?"  
  
As he told her, Silver nodded. "It's been four months. We're going back to the general area."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because there are POWs on the planet Spindle that the Chigs didn't turn over to us."  
  
"What?" Ross turned around from his computer terminal where he had started to read the mission objectives. "It's suicide."  
  
"Not exactly, sir. Two weeks from now, an offensive will begin in the Ephyra System. The 6th Fleet with support from the 10th should be enough to draw Chig forces away from Spindle. As far as we can determine, Spindle is two worm holes from Ephyra and only one worm hole away from the Chig home world. It made a logical place for them to transfer POWs. We will have a four day window for this mission."  
  
The commodore glanced back at the orders that she had handed him. "It says here that you have three pilots to add to the 58th. Where did they come from?"  
  
"My previous unit, the 110th Air Cav."  
  
"What happened?" Intense curiosity from McQueen.  
  
She looked at McQueen. "A Chig fighter crashed into the landing bay while our fighters were preparing to launch. Took out three-fourths of the people in the docking bay, including all of my unit who were there. Myself and the three pilots had been in a disciplinary hearing were late to the bay. Instead of fighting the Chigs, we ended up pulling people out of wreckage."  
  
"Disciplinary hearing?" McQueen's narrowed.  
  
"My pilots are IVs and the only ones on the Ticondaroga." Silver's voice spoke volumes.  
  
The men nodded, understanding.  
  
"They're good pilots, when someone gives them a chance. I wasn't about to abandon them on the 'Roga. So I brought them with me." When Ross indicated that she take the last chair, Silver sat down. "'Sides, I need my backup singers."  
  
The two men looked surprised.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Singers?" asked Ross.  
  
"Lt. Finch is a soprano, Lt. St. John is a baritone, and Lt. Russell is a tenor."  
  
"But singers?"  
  
"Do you have a problem with singing, Colonel?"  
  
"Ah, no, but-"  
  
"It wasn't something you were 'taught'?" She referred to the fact that IVs had knowledge implanted in their brains during their growing in a tank.  
  
"No." McQueen straightened, his jaw tight at the reminder.  
  
"You should try it sometime. The lieutenants hadn't been 'taught' either. They caught me serenading a potted plant, I believe. They became hooked almost instantly. Once they got over the embarrassment of learning." Silver leaned back. "You should try it, Colonel. It's a great way to vent steam and no one gets hurt. Except maybe their eardrums." She chuckled. "We usually fly to music of some sort. I've actually gotten them to enjoy classical music as well."  
  
"But singing?"  
  
"Colonel, try it before you condemn it. In fact, I seriously recommend you try it. From what we've discovered about the Chigs, music is alien to them. They have nothing like it. So, I developed song cues for different operations. Chigs and AIs can understand the words, but that doesn't necessarily describe what the cue means."  
  
"You don't have to sing, though."  
  
"Colonel, you should have seen us on Tantos. Eight of us against three squads of Chigs. We were down on ammo. Every shot had to count. Capt. LeRoy started up the Battle Hymn of the Republic. We ran out of ammo and advanced, singing. Chigs just froze. A few turned and ran. A three to one margin and we took them out in hand to hand combat." Silver rubbed her right arm absently. "None of us died, though we had some serious injuries. So singing can have some advantages."  
  
"I'll think about it."  
  
Silver smiled. "Just keep an open mind about it. I'd hate to think you were as close minded as a lot of natural borns." She saw that stung McQueen, though Ross hid what she thought was a smile behind his hand.  
  
"When are your pilots supposed to be here?" asked Ross.  
  
"They came aboard with me. I told them to meet me in whatever passes as a drinking hall. I'm sure they've found it by now."  
  
"No doubt. I can only hope it is still intact," Ross stated dryly but with a grin.  
  
"They had orders not to have more than two beers apiece. Of course, I didn't specify how large a beer they could have." Silver shrugged and looked at McQueen. "Is it all right if I go ahead and bunk them in with the 58th?"  
  
McQueen nodded curtly.  
  
"Good. Then I'll collect them and drop them off. I'll get to meet the 58th at the same time."  
  
"Do you know where your quarters are, Colonel?" Ross met her gaze steadily.  
  
"Yes, sir. I dropped off our gear there first."  
  
"Then I'll let you go get your pilots and meet the 58th."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
As Silver rose and saluted before leaving the Commodore's quarters, McQueen stared after her with narrowed eyes. How the hell did she know what had occurred in the briefing room? Who did she think she was touching him without permission? And why the hell did he want to trust her?  
  
Abruptly, McQueen rose. "I'll be back, Glen."  
  
"I'll be here, Ty." Ross reached for his guitar.  
  
****  
  
Silver asked directions and found her way to Tun Tavern. Standing in the doorway, Silver spotted her three pilots relaxing at one table and the 58th huddled over another table. There were nearly thirty other personnel, mostly Marines, scattered throughout the room. She headed for the bar, unaware that McQueen stood in the doorway behind her.  
  
Silver watched as Lt. Finch, a tall, willowy, blonde IV, rose with her half full tankard. She listened as Finch's clear voice sang,  
  
"From the Halls of Montezuma-" At this point, the other two, now standing, joined in. "To the shores of Tripoli, We fight our planet's battles, In Space Air Land and Sea. First to fight for right and freedom, And to keep our honor clean; We are proud to bear the title Of United States Marines!"  
  
A man in a Marine uniform spun on his bar stool. "Shut your mouths, tanks!"  
  
Silver stepped up beside the man. "Tell me something," she identified his rank, "Major. Is it the song or the people singing it that you don't like?"  
  
"They're just damned tanks! They don't deserve to sing that anthem." The major turned around and started to smirk until he spotted her rank.  
  
"Tell me, Major," she read his name tag, "Danson, how long have you been in?" Silver knew that her pilots were approaching.  
  
"Five years."  
  
"How many engagements have you survived?" The three IV Marines stood ranked behind her, at parade rest.  
  
"Enough."  
  
"Do you recognize the Battle of Dicte?"  
  
"Everyone knows that one. The 76th Ground Battalion skunked a mess of AIs."  
  
"Yes, that is ONE version of it." Silver's voice became cool, detached. "I was there, with the 110th Air Cavalry. Human and IV Marines. I was on the front line. The human 76th was one hundred yards behind us, armed with the mortars. The AIs dropped heavy mortar fire into our trench. We called for mortar support. The 76th ignored us. In fact, when the AIs charged our line, the 76th turned tail and ran. Our individual pockets rallied and we turned the battle around. The 76th came rushing in at the end and claimed victory for themselves. They waltzed off the field, leaving their dead behind. We brought back not only their dead but all of ours as well. Out of five hundred Marines, a hundred and two were able to even walk onto the transports."  
  
Silver leaned in close to the major, but everyone heard her voice. "Now, Major, you tell me. Who earned the right to be Marines?"  
  
Swallowing, the Major said, "The 110th."  
  
"And you're looking at the last survivors of the 110th, Major. These Marines have served with me for seven years. Next time before you open your mouth, find out who you're about to bad mouth. They've earned the right to that song." She looked the major up and down. "Of course, it could also be that you've forgotten the words and the meaning behind the song."  
  
Lt. Finch started again with pride. "From the Halls of Montezuma-"  
  
Again her two companions joined in as did Silver. "To the shores of Tripoli- "  
  
'Dammit,' McQueen thought to himself, 'the woman's been aboard less than two hours and she's already made an enemy. She handled him well, but she's going to need back up.' McQueen walked forward, singing. "We fight our country's battles, In Space Air Land and Sea-"  
  
Seeing their CO joining in, the 58th rose and sang, "First to fight for right and freedom-"  
  
Most of the rest of the Marines in the room rose and joined in. "And to keep our honor clean; We are proud to bear the title Of United States Marines!"  
  
Under the combined weight of singers, the major forced himself to stand as the last two verses were sung. He remained silent.  
  
"Our flag's unfurled to every breeze, From dawn to setting sun; We have fought in every clime and place, Where we could take a gun. In the snow of far-off Northern lands, And in sunny tropic scenes; You will find us always on the job - The United States Marines."  
  
"Here's health to you and to our Corps, Which we are proud to serve;  
  
In many a strife we've fought for life  
  
And never lost our nerve.  
  
If the Army and the Navy  
  
Ever look on Heaven's scenes,  
  
They will find the streets are guarded  
  
by United States Marines."  
  
"OOH-RAH!"  
  
The echoes died away. Silver stared at the major. "Don't mess with me or mine. I have a very long memory, Major Danson. And as they say, Revenge is a dish best served cold." Her grin was predatory. "It is very cold in space, Major. The perfect place for revenge." She started to turn away, then faced him again. "And better men than you have tried to bring me down over the years. I'm still here and they...are not."  
  
As Silver turned, she saw McQueen and gave him a nod. "Colonel."  
  
"Allow me to introduce you to the 58th, Colonel."  
  
In perfect step, Silver's Marines followed her to the 58th's table.  
  
"5-8, this is Colonel Silver, your new co-CO," announced McQueen. He introduced the squadron. "Capt. Vansen, Capt. West, Lt. Damphousse, Lt. Hawkes."  
  
"I've heard a lot about you, 5-8. Hopefully you'll continue to live up to it. These three are Lt. Finch, Lt. St. John," a well built brown skinned man, "and Lt. Russell," a lean, red headed man. "The 110th has been formally dissolved, its dead membership listed on the rolls. The last surviving members have been transferred to the 58th."  
  
"Did you plan that little show?" asked West, his hazel eyes fastened on Silver.  
  
"No. I had been hoping these three would keep a low profile for a change. But that's like asking a leopard to change his spots."  
  
McQueen looked at his squad. "These three will be bunking with you. They are now part of the squadron."  
  
"Yes, sir," replied Shane Vansen.  
  
McQueen nodded curtly. "A briefing at 0800 tomorrow. We have a mission to prepare for."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
McQueen turned and left.  
  
"A man with a lot on his mind," murmured Silver watching him stride out of Tun Tavern.  
  
"Why do you say that?" asked Hawkes, having heard her with his superior hearing.  
  
"Look, I need to talk to all of you, but somewhere a bit more private. Any ideas?"  
  
After a hard look at Silver, Vansen rose. "This way."  
  
Vansen led the way to the 58th's barracks. "Guard the door, Hawkes." She knew he would be able to hear anything said. "What do you need to tell us?" The original members of the squadron sat around a table.  
  
Silver leaned against the far wall near the table. "It's about Colonel McQueen. There are those looking for any excuse to pull him off the front lines. The fact that his replacement leg doesn't function correctly works for them. In fact, I'm fairly sure that he was given a substandard part on purpose."  
  
"Why do you care?" demanded Vansen.  
  
"Because I admire him and know how hard he's worked to get this far. He's needed here. He needs to be with you." Silver sighed, crossing her arms. "Look, what I'm about to tell you is not for anyone's ears, not even McQueen's. He has to trust me before I can let him in on it."  
  
Suspicious, West demanded, "What are you talking about?"  
  
"I have connections back on Earth. They are working on IV regeneration. In the next month or so, they should be contacting me on whether it is successful. If it is, McQueen will be eligible. A week of travel back to Earth, a month of treatment, a month of physical therapy, a week to get back to the Fleet. Two and a half months, three tops, and he would be back in fighting shape."  
  
"And you? What would you do?" asked Damphousse.  
  
"Hopefully stay on as co-CO for now, eventually dropping to XO. If it doesn't work out, I do have other options."  
  
"And these three? What of them?" Damphousse leaned forward.  
  
"They are now a part of the 58th. They would stay here. Unfortunately, they can not follow me if I leave here."  
  
"We like our skins whole and on our backs." St. John perched on an unoccupied bunk. "I've done my share of covert ops. A pain in the butt. Necessary, though."  
  
"And if McQueen went to Earth, you would have the squadron until his return?" West fixed his gaze on Silver.  
  
"Yes. Unless you would like someone like Ray Butts in charge."  
  
"No." Vansen leaned back in her chair. "And if we decided we didn't want you, you would just turn us back over to McQueen?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"All right." Shane nodded. "We'll go along with you for now. But tell us what you find out about this treatment, good news or bad."  
  
"Done."  
  
"What do you get out of this?" snapped West.  
  
"Well..."  
  
"She gets the colonel," announced Vansen, sharply. "Right?"  
  
"Well, he's a helluva good looking man, don't you think?"  
  
"He's also a-"  
  
"I know what he is." Silver leaned over at West. "I know EXACTLY what he is. He's a man who has been through hell and back again too many times. He's a man who has had damned nearly every hand turned against him until that is what he expects. He's a man who desperately needs someone to show that they care about him as a man, not a Marine. And you don't fit the bill. I know him, better than you. I've been through several of the hells that he has; I know the road by memory. Only I lucked out, I had people who stood by me. And I fully intend to show him that it is all right to be a man."  
  
Silver stood up. "Now, I'm going to get a drink, some food, and turn in. I've been up for thirty-six straight hours. You three better come get your gear."  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Finch smiled. "Then we'll let you rest."  
  
****  
  
McQueen knocked.  
  
"Who's at my hatch?" came Ross' voice.  
  
"Colonel McQueen."  
  
"Come in."  
  
Inside, McQueen threw himself into his usual chair. "Where the hell does she come from, Glen?"  
  
"Just like she said, Ty. The Ticonderoga." Ross strummed the guitar.  
  
"I just watched her make an enemy in the Tun. I backed her up. I felt like I had to. That it was what I was supposed to do." Shaking his head, McQueen leaned forward. "I need a drink. May I?"  
  
"Help yourself, old friend."  
  
McQueen rose and went to the wet bar. "Want anything?" He poured himself a large scotch.  
  
"Not tonight."  
  
Tossing the first scotch down quickly, McQueen poured himself another before sitting back down. He sipped the second scotch, watching Glen play.  
  
"Do you know anything else about her, Glen?"  
  
"Only that she is a good officer. And she's obviously capable of handling any challenges the 5-8 will throw her way."  
  
McQueen fought the urge to tell his friend about his odd sense of wanting to trust Colonel Silver right away. He won the battle, settling deep in the chair an consciously ignoring any thought of the woman.  
  
****  
  
Two hours later, the three new members returned to the bunk area.  
  
"Where have you been?" asked Vansen.  
  
"Making sure the colonel ate. She has a habit of not eating properly when she's tired. It's sort of our job to make sure she takes care of herself," answered St. John.  
  
"So you've been with her for seven years?"  
  
"Yeah, Hawkes. Seven years. Seven long, hard years, but we couldn't have asked for a better commander." Finch sat at the table across from Hawkes. "I know what you're asking. We'll give you an idea of the colonel.  
  
"Our first battle together was Dicte. Silver was only a 2nd Louie. We were lousy corporals. There were twenty of us under her command. She held us in position when the AIs started their push. She called for mortar support. Nothing came. We ran out of ammo and still the AIs came at us. Our line was overrun and we were fighting hand to hand. As you know, AIs are tough. She went down under a mess of them. We thought she was dead. There was a roar of rage and up she popped, bloody but alive. We closed ranks around her and fought our way to another pocket. She started singing the hymn and the folks we were trying to reach sang it back. They joined us. Every pocket we reached gave us more numbers. We kept on singing; it helped us keep from thinking about dying. Turned out she was the highest ranking officer left. She finally turned her attention on the AIs. By now, we were all so damned hyped the AIs could have doubled their numbers and we would still have wiped them out. By the time the 76th got their little hiney butts into the fight, there were only a handful of AIs left."  
  
From the upper bunk he had claimed, St. John said, "The 76th hustled on upstairs, leaving us behind to clean up. By the time we got up there, they had spread the word that we," he snorted, "that we had turned tail and run, leaving them to fight the AIs. Unfortunately for us, that got spread real fast through the newsies. They didn't bother to find out the truth. So by the time we arrived, with the dead and injured, we couldn't counter the damage. The brigadier, he wrote it up properly and some of us got medals for doing the work. And the 76th received medals from the President for doing squat."  
  
"Silver was given a field promotion and made XO of what was left of the 110th. Over the years, there were replacements from time to time, but never enough. The 110th's luck ran out last week. We pulled the bodies of our comrades out of the wreckage the Chig fighter made out of our docking bay." Russell stared down at West. "So Silver talked to McIntyre-"  
  
"General McIntyre? Third in command of the entire fleet?" Damphousse gaped.  
  
"Is there another General McIntyre?" chuckled Finch.  
  
"He and Silver go back to before they joined the Corps." Russell waved his hand in the air. "Way before our time. Anyway, she talked to him and found out that a proposal was on the board to ship McQueen back to Earth, to turn him into a desk jockey and show pony."  
  
"No!" every member of the original 58th gasped.  
  
"Yes. Silver talked to McIntyre. Don't know what went on between the two of them, but when McIntyre went to the meeting about McQueen, he managed to shoot that plan down. Then they started proposing breaking up the 58th." Russell overrode their shocked gasps this time. "They were saying that with McQueen unable to fly or lead missions, that the 58th was out of commission. He pounded that one into the ground, too. McIntyre then brought up Silver's idea. A co-CO who could take over the active command of the unit, leaving McQueen the rest. It took McIntyre twelve hours of arguing to win them over to his plan. So now, everything is riding on how well we make this work out. If we blow it, both colonels' careers go in the toilet and we get split up among the fleet to die without someone at our backs." Russell nodded curtly at West. "We know your reputations. There's a lot of folks out there that would love to tear you apart; they're so damn jealous of what you've got. And understand this, if we didn't think the colonel's plan a sound one, we wouldn't be here."  
  
"All right, we'll work with you."  
  
Russell nodded to Vansen. "That's all we ask."  
  
****  
  
The 58th was rousted out of their bunks at 0400 by the red alert klaxons. "Squadrons 44, 58, 64, 89, and 100, report to Docking Bay 3."  
  
"Must be a helluva reception waiting for us," remarked 'Phousse, sliding into her flight suit.  
  
"Well, let's not keep them waiting," grinned Russell. "Let's rock and roll."  
  
"You got ships here?"  
  
"Of course, West. How do you think we got here? Walked?" St. John laughed, pulling on his second boot. "Just packed everything we owned into the Hammerheads and flew on over. What's a twenty-five hour flight in a SA-43?"  
  
"Move it!" Vansen snarled from the doorway.  
  
"On your six, capitan." Finch grabbed an object and tossed it to Russell. "Today's choice."  
  
"Rockin' Bach. Good choice." Russell trotted out the open hatch, tucking the optical disc into an upper pocket.  
  
The 58th squadron trotted into the docking bay and scrambled into their cockpits. As they were lowered into their waiting Hammerheads, the pulsing hard rhythms of Bach filled their helmets.  
  
"What is that?" asked Hawkes.  
  
"Bach, man. Fantastic composer." Russell waited for the order he knew was coming.  
  
Silver's cool voice came over the helmets. "Deuce, turn it down."  
  
"Aye, ma'am." Russell turned it down to a tolerable level.  
  
"Launch in one mike."  
  
"Roger that-" Vansen hesitated, realizing she didn't know Silver's call sign.  
  
"Roger that, Diamond Queen," Finch stated. "Trey waiting."  
  
"Snake Eyes, ready to launch, Diamond Queen."  
  
"Launch."  
  
****  
  
On the Saratoga's bridge, Silver turned to McQueen who had just arrived. "All yours, Queen 6. The 'Cards are in the air, or rather, space."  
  
Relinquishing the seat, Silver stood back out of the way of the bridge crew. She intended to watch through this battle, learning the ways of this ship and crew.  
  
Commodore Ross, she noted, relied heavily on McQueen, seemingly to pick up the threads of whatever plan McQueen came up with. Everything revolved around Ross, but McQueen was there, in the background, calmly directing the air units in the combat, using them like surgical strike teams to exploit every opening the enemy provided. When Ross spoke to McQueen, McQueen listened intently, acknowledging the commodore's experience and taking the input seriously. And when McQueen started snapping out orders, the bridge crew obeyed, knowing he had good reasons for the commands. Ross would quietly stand by McQueen, waiting for the quiet words that McQueen would say to fill him in on what ever threat McQueen saw.  
  
Resolving to spend every other air combat on the bridge, Silver watched and waited for the attack to wind down. Two hours later, the Chigs broke off. Gratefully, Silver noted their losses had been quite low. Only three pilots lost.  
  
"They'll be back in a few minutes. Ready for a debriefing?"  
  
"Of course, colonel." Silver followed McQueen off the bridge. 


	2. Blood and Souls, Chapter Two

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17 Sex and language.  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter Two  
  
The first fight as a team behind them, the 58th squadron waited to be debriefed. Pausing outside the same room she had watched them the day before, Silver stopped McQueen with a gentle hand on his arm and faced him. "Will you let me handle this one?"  
  
McQueen hesitated, not looking forward to the debriefing. The start of a massive headache centered behind his eyes.  
  
"Give me a chance to prove myself to them and to you."  
  
With a sigh, McQueen nodded.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
McQueen opened the door and followed Silver in.  
  
"Atten-HUT!" snapped Vansen and the seven pilots obeyed.  
  
"I'm letting Col. Silver run this debriefing." McQueen ignored the looks of dismay from his kids and sat down behind the desk. He wheeled the chair to the side of the room, leaving Silver the floor.  
  
Silver gave him a brief nod before turning to the pilots. "At ease," she growled, her voice low and almost guttural.  
  
The original members of the 58th started to relax and head for chairs, but realized that the other three remained standing in parade rest. They hastily followed suit.  
  
"Lt. Finch, please enlighten me as to what you were doing?" Silver stood, hands behind her back, several feet away from Finch.  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Once engaged with the enemy, I proceeded to fly solo." Lt. Finch gave a run down on her actions up to the last several minutes. "-and after I took out the Chig on Capt. West, well, I - I messed up, ma'am."  
  
"How did you mess up?"  
  
"I zagged left when I should have zigged right. That way the Chig wouldn't have hit my engine, just my wing."  
  
"And then what happened?"  
  
"The Chig got another hit on me. Took out most of my controls, including the landing gear."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"Capt. Shane blew the Chig to pieces, the fight was over, and I was towed back to the Saratoga, ma'am."  
  
"And Finch, how much did the bird you flew only once in combat cost?"  
  
"Three point six seven million, ma'am."  
  
"I must congratulate you, Finch, for yet again scrapping the first plane you fly off a carrier. Once more you have rendered an expensive piece of hardware to pure scrap." Silver moved to stand directly before Finch, eye to eye. "And by the way, how do you know what your mistakes were?"  
  
"Hind sight, ma'am." Finch's voice dropped.  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"Always twenty-twenty, ma'am."  
  
"Finch, unless you can read the mind of the other pilot, you can't know what is going to be a mistake until after it is made. And then you pray you live to remember it. Do try to remember that, hm?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Silver moved to the next in line. "Lt. St. John, you racked up an impressive - one - kill. Care to tell me how you did it? There were one hundred and fifty of them to our seventy-five. Explain yourself."  
  
"Ma'am, I -" St. John shot a frantic look at Russell.  
  
Silver's voice went chill. "Were you playing Duck?"  
  
Eyes wide with fear, St. John rapped out, "Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"  
  
Gripping his flight suit front, Silver jerked him forward and down, off balance. Despite the fact he had fifty pounds, four inches and was an IV, she man handled him easily. "I warned you about playing Duck," she growled into his ear.  
  
The original members of the 58th stared in shock when Silver lifted St. John, spun on her heel, and tossed him toward the door. He landed beside the door, fifteen feet away. He hastily resumed stance.  
  
Silver turned to his partner. "And you, Lt. Russell? Anything to say?"  
  
"Sorry, ma'am. We won't do it again!"  
  
"I'm going to break you of this game once and for all." Silver did a repeat performance with Russell. "Fifty laps of the ship, three hundred push-ups, and one hundred and fifty curls, in this room under my eye. And," she paused, "latrine duty for the entire ship."  
  
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"  
  
Looking at Finch, Silver said in a calm voice, "Twenty five laps, one hundred and fifty push-ups, one hundred curls."  
  
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am." Finch ran to stand beside the two men.  
  
Next in line was West. "Tell me, Captain, how close did you come to shooting Capt. Shane?"  
  
"Too close, ma'am."  
  
"Next time, try to get a steeper angle."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Five laps, fifty push-ups, fifty curls."  
  
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am."  
  
"And you might try an Immelmann next time."  
  
"Ma'am? A what?'  
  
"A review of basic dogfighting will be tomorrow." Silver shook her head.  
  
"Yes, ma'am." At Silver's gesture, West darted over to stand behind the three at the door.  
  
"Lt. Hawkes."  
  
"Yes, ma'am?"  
  
She regretted the fact she was about to wipe his pleased grin from his face. He had flown well. Seven more kills to his credit. The smug look on Hawkes' face vanished with her question. "Whose wing man were you for this engagement?'  
  
"Capt. Vansen's, ma'am."  
  
"And how many minutes away were you when Capt. West almost shot Capt. Vansen?"  
  
"Several, ma'am." Hawkes deflated completely.  
  
"What would have happened if Capt. West had been oh, say, thirty seconds or even a full minute further away?'  
  
"Chigs would have gotten Capt. Vansen, ma'am." Now Hawkes sounded miserable.  
  
"Tell me something, Lt. Do you often desert your wing man in the thick of battle?"  
  
Incapable of lying, Hawkes answered, "Yes, ma'am." His voice trembled.  
  
"This is a serious offense, Lt. Being someone's wing man means they have to trust you to be there when they need you. Were you?"  
  
"No, ma'am." Hawkes struggled not to cry. He broke stance, looking at Shane. "I'm sorry, Shane."  
  
"I know, Coop." Shane turned her head long enough to give him a quick smile.  
  
The sight of Hawkes tearing himself up over the issue made McQueen want to comfort Hawkes verbally, but he forced himself to stay silent. He had tried unsuccessfully to get Hawkes to stay with his wing man. All he could do was hope Silver did not push Hawkes too far.  
  
"Well, Lt. Hawkes, I think you owe me forty laps, two hundred push-ups, and one hundred curls. In addition, you will stand guard over Capt. Shane's bunk. Six hours should suffice. You will spend the entire time reflecting on your actions and the fact that next time the both of you may not be so lucky."  
  
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am." Hawkes stumbled away at her curt nod with none of his usual grace.  
  
"Lt. Damphousse, do you know what an Immelmann is?"  
  
"I remember hearing that it was a flying term from the early 20th century, ma'am."  
  
"I really will take this up with the flight trainers. It is basic dogfighting technique. As with Capt. West, you should try for more angle when going for a bogey on someone's tail. Five laps, fifty and fifty."  
  
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am." Relieved, 'Phousse went to stand beside Hawkes.  
  
"Capt. Vansen, can you answer my question about the Immelmann?'  
  
"No, ma'am."  
  
Shaking her head, Silver asked, "How often have you had the squadron in VR simulation?"  
  
"Twice a month, ma'am."  
  
"Really? As often as that?" The sarcasm dripped from the words. "How many flight hours has the squadron logged in the last thirty days, discounting this latest engagement?"  
  
"Thirty two or so, ma'am."  
  
"Divided by four?"  
  
"Is eight hours a person, ma'am."  
  
"Do you know how many flight hours you are supposed to have, individually?"  
  
Shane struggled to remember, but admitted failure. "No, ma'am."  
  
"Twenty five or more. Do you know what happens to squads who do not meet performance regulations two months in a row?"  
  
"They don't fly, ma'am."  
  
"Correct. They get pulled from flight until they re-qualify, a procedure that can take as long as a month. Is it your intention to ground this squadron?"  
  
"No, ma'am." Shane stood rigid.  
  
"Five laps, fifty and fifty. I want a schedule for simulations on my desk at 0800."  
  
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am."  
  
"Lts. Russell and St. John, lead the run. Double time, march."  
  
McQueen moved over to the desk as the squadron vacated the premises.  
  
Alone with McQueen, Silver closed and locked the door.  
  
He frowned.  
  
"I don't want anyone disturbing us." She stood behind McQueen. Setting her hands lightly on his shoulders, she felt his muscles tense further. An intensely private man, he obviously did not like to be touched. "Relax." Silver started to massage the tightness in his lower neck and shoulders. "It's just a massage."  
  
Little by little, he relaxed. His head dropped to his chest after several minutes. "That feels good, colonel."  
  
"It should. I spent good money learning how to give massages." Silver ran her hands down his arms and felt rewarded when he allowed her to lift his arms to the desk, fold them and lower his head to rest on them. She started working her way up his neck.  
  
McQueen stiffened.  
  
"Easy, colonel. I have given plenty of IV massages. I know how to touch so it merely relaxes. I'm not going to turn you on." Leaning over and breathing into his ear, she added, "This time."  
  
Her thumbs massaged the muscles on either side of the omphalos, or neck navel, dragging a groan from McQueen.  
  
He tried to recover his sense of control, but McQueen knew she could do anything she wanted to. Somewhere, somehow, he had given up control to her. "This time?" He heard the fear, the excitement, and dread in his voice.  
  
"Yes. I want you anywhere I can get you. But in a serious relationship. Not a one night stand or a trophy hunt. And I'll wait until you are more comfortable with the idea." Shifting her thumbs slightly, Silver pressed hard for several seconds and then released.  
  
Another groan escaped McQueen as he felt muscles he had not been aware of suddenly relax. The burgeoning headache started to fade. He remained still as her skilled, experienced hands worked their way down to between his shoulder blades, following the tightness. The headache retreated further.  
  
"How's the headache?"  
  
"Almost gone." McQueen allowed her to shift his body again as she wanted. She brought him upright, tilted his head back slightly so he rested between her breasts, and stroked her fingers across his eyebrows. Unbidden, he closed his eyes.  
  
"Hands in your lap, please." Once he had obeyed, Silver placed her thumbs over his eyebrows above his nose. She pressed hard and slowly stroked toward his temples. Five times she repeated the movement. "And now?"  
  
"What headache?" Opening his eyes, McQueen gave her his first smile.  
  
She returned it, drowning in the depths of his brilliant blue eyes. "Do you think I was too hard on them?" Silver tore her mind away from the thought of kissing him then and there. Too soon.  
  
"No. I've been pretty lenient on them lately. I haven't been pushing them like I should. It's my fault they aren't up to regulations."  
  
"It is not your fault. Shane is supposed to be running the day to day operations like that. Now stop taking the blame. I know you love those kids like they were your own, but they do need to stand on their own two feet. Don't coddle them."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"I have a thirteen year old daughter on Earth." At his surprised look, she asked, "Didn't you look at my dossier?"  
  
"Ross forgot to give it to me. I haven't asked him."  
  
"God, you're a stubborn man." She started massaging his face. "All right. Crash course on Col. Silver. I'm 5'9", somewhere around 160, hair dark brown, eyes blue, grey, or green depending on my mood. Of Celtic descent. That means that I've a bit of Irish in me, some Welsh, some Scottish, and who knows what else. In addition to being a mongrel, I have a lousy temper which I control religiously. If I lose it... Well, the advice of a friend comes to mind. He said, 'Duck and run for cover. Preferably in a foxhole five counties away.'"  
  
When McQueen chuckled, Silver smiled and caressed his throat. "I have an IQ that's up there. I finished high school early and already had half of my required college classes. I finished my degree when I was eighteen."  
  
"In what?'  
  
"English literature," she laughed, running her hands down to his upper chest, striving to ease more of the tension she could feel curled in his body, returning to his throat. "Can you believe it? Then I taught Junior High School for a year. I decided I didn't want to make my living trying to pound some appreciation for the classics into adolescent, hormone driven, angst ridden, children who weren't using what few brain cells they had. I looked around, saw the way the AI thing was headed, and enlisted in the Core. I wanted to be able to defend myself."  
  
McQueen discovered he enjoyed her touch. His wife had rarely just touched him, but had expected him to constantly give her attention. It was one of the million social niceties that the IV programmers had deliberately left out.  
  
"Don't tense up on me now. Think of something relaxing. Like what I'm doing. Concentrate on that." She ran one hand lightly over his forehead, the other stroking his throat, feeling his pulse.  
  
"How did you know?"  
  
"You frown too much." She used a thumb to smooth the frown. "Not everything is about your being an IV." Silver took a risk and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Now, I suspect the first of your kids will be here shortly. Try to stay relaxed. In fact, you don't have to stay."  
  
"No, I want to be here." McQueen rubbed his knee. "I wish I hadn't lost the leg."  
  
"If you hadn't, you wouldn't have gotten that massage."  
  
"True. But I don't think it's a fair trade."  
  
Silver nodded her understanding and stepped away, headed for the door.  
  
"What is Duck?"  
  
Crossing her arms, Silver faced McQueen. "It's when a pilot lures Chigs into the firing line of another pilot. Russell and St. John developed it and have it down to an art. Unfortunately, others do not have the skill and often they are the ones who die, not the Chigs. It takes an exceptional team to make it work and I've been trying to break them of it for the last year. Hopefully, this will do it."  
  
McQueen hesitated, then asked, "Silver, what's your name?"  
  
"Lysa." She unlocked the door.  
  
"An unusual name."  
  
"It's a family name. Passed down for generations." She stood by the desk. "And you?"  
  
"Tyrus."  
  
"Ah, rock. A good solid name. And the city that bore it was renowned for its wealth and beauty."  
  
Not many knew about the Phoenician city. "How do-"  
  
The door opened and the first three members of the squad finished with their laps entered. They snapped to attention before the desk.  
  
"You may begin the push-ups." Silver waited until they had finished their first push-up before coolly announcing, "On your feet."  
  
They hurriedly obeyed.  
  
"Exercise your pathetic excuses for brains and give me the first cadence you learned at basic."  
  
"1, 2, 3, 4, I love the Marine Core."  
  
"That was as pathetic as your brains. Try again."  
  
"1, 2, 3, 4, I LOVE THE MARINE CORPS!"  
  
"Better. Now use it."  
  
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am."  
  
McQueen allowed a small quirk of his lips as his kids dove back down to the floor and proceeded to fill the room with their cadence. He let Silver see it and was rewarded by a flash of a grin.  
  
Pride filled him that his three normal human kids managed to finish the detail. He watched as West and Shane slowed down to keep them all in sync. They were all exhausted.  
  
"0830. Be here. Dismissed."  
  
As the three staggered out, Finch entered. "Lt. Finch reporting, ma'am."  
  
"Begin."  
  
At the door West glanced back and saw Finch drop into a push-up.  
  
"1, 2, 3, 4, I LOVE THE MARINE CORPS!"  
  
West closed the door.  
  
"You've let them get soft, Colonel."  
  
"They're only human."  
  
With ten push-ups. to go, Finch glanced up at the door as it opened. Hawkes staggered in.  
  
"52, I LOVE THE MARINE CORPS! 53, 54, 55, 56, I LOVE THE MARINE CORPS!"  
  
Tired and sullen because of it, Hawkes dropped down and started doing push- ups.  
  
McQueen stood up, slapping his hands down on the desk. "Lt. Hawkes! Present yourself!"  
  
Hearing the anger in his CO's voice, Hawkes scrambled to his feet. "Lt. Hawkes, reporting, sir!"  
  
"Is it your intention, lieutenant, to embarrass me before the colonel?" McQueen's voice resembled ice.  
  
"No, sir!"  
  
"Do you, or do you not, know the proper procedure for reporting your presence?"  
  
"Sir, yes, I do, sir!"  
  
"Then show me."  
  
"Sir, yes, sir!" Hawkes trotted out the door and back in, bringing himself to full attention before the desk. "Lt. Hawkes, reporting, sir!"  
  
"Start your push-ups., lieutenant."  
  
"Sir, yes, sir!" With a barely audible sigh, Hawkes dropped into position and started. "1, 2, 3, 4, I LOVE THE MARINE CORPS!"  
  
McQueen sat down, giving Silver a shrug and a look of apology.  
  
With a nod, Silver sat down, pulling reports over that she had brought in.  
  
Finished with her curls at last, Finch received permission to leave.  
  
Hawkes had only finished half of his push-ups. when the last two miscreants arrived.  
  
"Lt. St. John, reporting, ma'am!"  
  
"Lt. Russell, reporting, ma'am!"  
  
"Begin."  
  
The two started their cadence and dragged Hawkes into their faster pace. By the time Hawkes finished his count, he collapsed momentarily on the floor. He groaned and rolled onto his back to start his curls.  
  
Russell glanced over at Hawkes. "Ah, come on, Hawkes. Can't you go faster? What are you? Soft?"  
  
In response, Hawkes sped up.  
  
St. John and Russell started their curls, pushing the cadence hard.  
  
By the time Hawkes finished, he could not move. He lay panting, as the other two rose to their feet.  
  
"Damn, Hawkes. You are soft." Russell snapped to attention beside St. John. "Ma'am."  
  
"The latrine schedule will be posted in two hours. I will be available for our usual ten klick run at the normal time."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Hawkes struggled to his feet. "Ma'am."  
  
"Lieutenant, I have to agree with the assessment of Lt. Russell. You are badly out of shape. I suggest you join us for our run and exercise program. You can get the details from them. I expect to see you beside Capt. Vansen's bunk for the next six hours. Dismissed."  
  
"What does your exercise program entail?" McQueen asked once the door closed.  
  
"After the run, we do three hours of intensive workouts. Feel free to join. I would enjoy having a partner who won't worry about rank. In fact, extend an invitation to the entire squadron."  
  
"A gentle kick in the behind since they're obviously out of shape. They'll be there."  
  
"And what about you? You need to keep in shape, too."  
  
"With this damn fake leg, I-"  
  
"McQueen, you have nine tenths of your body left. Don't neglect it worrying about whether or not that damn piece of metal is going to give out on you. Stop wallowing in self-pity. Or I just might start kicking your ass."  
  
Taken aback by her forcefulness, McQueen narrowed his gaze. There was no pity in her eyes. She meant it.  
  
"McQueen, I am serious. If you need help, ask. I will give it unconditionally. You don't need to play hero with me. I've been where you are. You can't do it all yourself. The sooner you realize that it is ok to ask for help, the sooner I can help you."  
  
McQueen admitted, "It's hard for me."  
  
"I know. I don't need words all the time. A hand, a gesture, a look can do the same as asking aloud. Lean on me. I'm stronger than you can know. Maybe stronger than you."  
  
"Right," McQueen said dryly. He knew natural born humans were weaker than himself, even in his current state. What she had done with the two lieutenants, he figured they had allowed her to do.  
  
Without warning, Silver moved. She grabbed McQueen by the upper arms, lifted him out of the chair, and carried him across the room, his feet never touching the floor. He stared at her in surprise. Setting him down by the door carefully, Silver gave him a wicked grin. His head ensnared in her hands, McQueen found himself being kissed passionately. Her hands roamed down to his waist as he unconsciously responded and deepened the kiss.  
  
Electricity arced through his body, bringing his senses to full awareness. The body under his hands was hard, yet womanly soft. A vague part of him wondered just what she looked like under the flight suit. McQueen broke the kiss off, desperate for air.  
  
Silver moved her mouth down to his throat, feeling how his pulse raced. Her lips rested above his pounding pulse and she fought the urge to taste him. Slowly, she pulled away from the tantalizing source of life.  
  
Gazing into the green eyes, McQueen knew he had never encountered anyone like her. "Who are you?"  
  
"Lt. Col. Lysa Silver."  
  
"That's not all."  
  
"You'll have to learn for yourself. Now, will you trust me not to let you fall?"  
  
"Yes," he breathed.  
  
"Good." She traced his cheek with a finger. "Have the 58th at the main gym at 1800. Don't forget to eat. And no alcohol until afterward. You'll need it."  
  
"Going to run me into the ground?" He struggled to steady his breathing.  
  
"At least, run your leg off." She grinned, kissed him quickly, and stepped away. "See you later. I have some business to attend to."  
  
"Do you need help?" Ah, there, a calm tone. Control reestablished.  
  
"Later. It's 1-10 stuff. I'll need the run and exercise by the time I finished."  
  
"Letters?"  
  
"A few." Her eyes shifted back to blue-grey.  
  
"I understand."  
  
"I know." Silver opened the door and left.  
  
Alone, McQueen sighed. His body had awakened under the first kiss and it was busy telling him it had been too damn long. Swearing under his breath, McQueen stalked out of the room.  
  
****  
  
"Listen up, 5-8." McQueen stood in the barracks hatchway. He watched as the squad turned toward him., Hawkes beside Vansen's bunk. "We've been invited to join Col. Silver for some exercise tonight." As they started to groan, he said, "I've let you get away with bare minimum exercise lately. The lot of you could barely finish today. You could have done it in your sleep once. It's time we got back in shape. And that's an order."  
  
"Yes, sir," Shane responded.  
  
"Be at the main gym at 1800 hours. We'll be doing a ten klick run. Afterward, be prepared for three hours of workout. Dress appropriately. Make sure you eat early enough."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
McQueen left the barracks, knowing that for all their protests they would be there.  
  
****  
  
"Shane?"  
  
"He's right, Vanessa. We've really been slacking off. And he let us."  
  
"Do you think he'll be there?"  
  
Shane nodded. "Yes, West, I do."  
  
"Then we better be there."  
  
"Yes."  
  
****  
  
McQueen ate a light meal at 1600, knowing he would be back after the workout. He nodded approval as he saw the 58th enter the mess. The only one he did not see was Silver.  
  
When he had finished and returned his plate, McQueen stopped next to where Finch sat with the 58th. "Where's Colonel Silver?"  
  
"She ate already, colonel. I just got back from working out our route with her. If I know her, she's reading." Finch smiled. "I think she just started the Tolkien stuff again."  
  
Russell groaned. "More fantasy hero stuff."  
  
"Hey, I like it. Orcs, elves, dwarves, hobbits, heroes, villains, great deeds." St. John leaned back. "It's great stuff. It's all so real. Tolkien was a great writer."  
  
"Hell, you think Lewis Carroll is a great writer."  
  
"Can I help it if you have no appreciation for the finer things in life, Russell?"  
  
McQueen left as the apparently old debate grew heated.  
  
Outside Silver's quarters, McQueen hesitated. He took a deep breath and knocked.  
  
"Who's at my hatch?"  
  
"Col. McQueen."  
  
"Come."  
  
Stretched out on her bed, Silver looked up from her book. "Have a seat. Take a load off."  
  
Doing so, McQueen peeked a look at the book's title. "The Hobbit?"  
  
"Yeah. I love a good fantasy. And Tolkien was among the best."  
  
"Did you finish your business?"  
  
"Yes. That's part of why I read this. It helps." She glanced at him. "Is there something you need?'  
  
"I just wanted to make sure everything was all right."  
  
"I'm dealing with it. It's been two weeks since it happened. And it isn't the first time I've lost huge numbers of my team."  
  
Deciding it was time to change the subject, McQueen gestured to the book she held. "So, what's it about?"  
  
"Don't tell me you haven't delved into the fantasy side of humanity?"  
  
"I am a realist."  
  
"It doesn't mean you can't enjoy a good fantasy." She tossed him the book in her hand. As he caught it reflexively, Silver grinned. "Get started. I've got others. Just remember it was written a hundred years ago."  
  
"What, now?"  
  
"Do you have anything pressing to do?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then read. Relax. I'll even let you stretch out on the bed if you want."  
  
"I'm fine here." McQueen settled back into the chair and opened the book. He watched over the top of it as Silver rose and went to a book shelf. There she picked out another book, tossing it on the bed. Then she inserted an optical disc in a player. Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor started.  
  
"Do you mind?"  
  
"No. It's fine."  
  
"Good. He's one of my favorite composers."  
  
When Silver returned to her bed and stretched out on her stomach, nose buried in her new book, McQueen forced himself to actually start reading.  
  
McQueen was startled when his book suddenly snapped shut.  
  
"I hate to interrupt, but it is time to go."  
  
"Already?"  
  
Silver grinned. "Sorry, but it is almost 1800. Do you have clothes at the gym to change into?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. Come on. We'll shower there and change."  
  
Reluctantly, McQueen set the book down.  
  
"We can drop it off at your quarters if you want."  
  
"It's too valuable for you to-"  
  
"Hey, it's mine. I loan my books out to friends. Bring it back when you've finished, and you can try the next installment."  
  
McQueen glanced down at the book. "I don't know what to say."  
  
"Thank you is good."  
  
"Thank you." He looked back up at her. "I will take care of it."  
  
"Just don't lose it down a garbage shoot, hm?" She held out her hand.  
  
Slowly McQueen took her hand and felt her strength as she hauled him onto his feet.  
  
Five minutes later, he stood before his locker at the gym. He could see Silver from the corner of his eye stripping off her flight suit. The locker room was currently empty, for which he was grateful. It was hard enough to reveal the horrible scarring on his body normally. His Invitro faster than normal healing had taken care of the scars on his face already and his neck was slowly healing. Within a few years no one would be able to tell his body had suffered such massive scarring.  
  
"Hey, you just going to stand there admiring that handsome face or are you actually planning to exercise?" Silver reached up and turned his head so he faced her. "It's ok, McQueen. I know your history. A few scars don't matter to me. What matters to me is the man under the skin. Besides, I have my share of scars. See?"  
  
She turned completely around and he saw what she meant. Just under her shoulder length hair, a set of five parallel scars ran down her back on the right side to her waist. Burns and puckered marks were scattered across her back and front. Her body did not resemble a model's, but the curves and breasts were ample enough. Muscles played under the satin skin, testifying to her strength.  
  
McQueen brushed the parallel scars lightly. "How?"  
  
"Would you believe I ran into a grizzly bear in Alaska? Damn near stumbled over the cub and Momma came out with a vengeance. Broke four ribs, too. Put me in the hospital for a week."  
  
The next one that drew his attention covered her left breast. It looked quite familiar.  
  
"Yes, I've had my share of run-ins with the AIs. I have enjoyed their hospitality, oh, seven or eight times. I think my total time runs to three months."  
  
"Three months?" His own time totaled twenty days and the first time they had broken him by the end of three days. It had taken him another eleven days to break free. Since then, he had managed not to stay long enough to break again.  
  
"It's not your concern, McQueen. Each of us have their burdens to bear. I've learned to live with mine. You've learned to live with yours and get on with your life. As a realist, you know better than to dwell in the 'if onlys'. You can't change the past. I also know that lesson well." Silver took his face between her hands and gently kissed him. "Now, change before those unruly hellions you call your kids arrive."  
  
McQueen's smile was bleak but he stripped off his flight suit. As he dressed in a khaki tank top and sweat pants, McQueen knew he should stop wearing the black flight suit from his days as an Angry Angel. He was never going to fly again. But a stubborn part of him refused to give up what the flight suit represented to him. It was a symbol of his freedom, of what he had forged himself to be. Nothing could take it away from him.  
  
Watching him, Silver could guess his thoughts hidden behind the stone mask. It was her goal to give him back what he had lost. "Tonight, I think we'll have a bit of a song fest. There's one song in particular I want you to hear."  
  
McQueen nodded.  
  
He was just finishing putting his running shoes on when the 58th trotted in. Rather than listen and watch their banter, he decided to join Silver in the gym area and start warming up.  
  
Silver stood beside him and touched his arm gently. "McQueen, I better warn you. The term run is a misnomer. It's more of an obstacle course."  
  
"Now you tell me." He shook his head. "I'll do my best."  
  
"That's my colonel."  
  
Once everyone had warmed up, Silver nodded to Finch. "Finch, you lead. Hawkes and St. John next. Then Vansen and Damphousse. West and Russell follow. McQueen and I will play tail end Charlie. Double time, march."  
  
Finch spun on her heel and jogged off. St. John grabbed Hawkes by the arm and dragged him along in her wake. The others followed, quickly falling into step.  
  
When Finch scrambled up a ladder, the group stalled, though St. John followed.  
  
"Move it! This isn't a stroll in the country. Get your asses in gear!" bellowed Silver.  
  
"You said it was a run!" protested Hawkes.  
  
"And how often do you get the leisure to actually just run from your enemies? Move it! Go! GO!" Silver turned to McQueen. "Colonel, you've got a bunch of pansies here."  
  
"I know. They used to be roses."  
  
He smiled inwardly at how that spurred them on, driving them to keep up with Silver's three.  
  
With only a half kilometer to go, McQueen stumbled and went to his hands and knees. His teeth ground together to keep the pain inside.  
  
Silver glanced down at him, then at the squad. "What are you waiting for? The colonel and I will meet you at the gym. Move it!"  
  
Grateful it was a rarely traveled corridor, McQueen accepted Silver's help in sitting and he leaned back against the wall, wincing as his leg started twitching uncontrollably. "Damn. I knew I was favoring it too much." He grimaced as Silver ran her hands over his leg, searching out the origin of the spasm.  
  
"Take a deep breath. When I press on the knot, let it out. Ready?'  
  
"Do it." Pain sledge hammered its way through his body and McQueen forced himself to exhale.  
  
The pain eased a degree and McQueen could feel her hands working on his thigh, easing the muscle spasm. Her fingers dug deep and he clenched his fists, trying not to tense up the leg further.  
  
Silver let her fingers do the work and let her eyes roam over McQueen's sweat drenched body. The obstacle course/run had taken its toll on McQueen. Wet fabric accentuated the lean, hard muscles of his upper body and thighs. His slender hand wiped the sweat from his face.  
  
He felt her look. "They're not the only ones out of shape."  
  
"We'll have you back in fighting trim in no time. And don't nay say me, McQueen. As long as you are ready and willing, there are always alternatives. There, let's get you on your feet. You should be able to jog the rest of it out. Too bad you didn't have my brother for your physical therapy."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"He drives you until you're in better shape than before whatever happened to you."  
  
"I was in good shape then."  
  
"You'd be in great shape now. He works your tail off."  
  
Once back at the gym, they found that Finch had initiated the rest of the exercises for the squad. Silver proceeded to work out the rest of McQueen's body until he was ready to drop.  
  
It amazed him how easily she kept up and how hard she badgered him to finish the routines. When at last she told him they were done, McQueen allowed himself to lie on the mat, panting.  
  
"Up. Time to hit the showers." She extended a hand.  
  
Gratefully he took it and lurched to his feet. "I must be getting old."  
  
"Nonsense. You just need to whip yourself back into shape. And until this squad is back in shape, this will be a nightly arrangement."  
  
McQueen started to walk and swore as the artificial leg chose that second to malfunction. He collapsed to the floor and fought back tears of rage.  
  
"Where's the reset button?" Silver asked softly.  
  
"In the back. It has a flip up catch."  
  
"Got it. Here it goes. Let's try that again." Again Silver aided him in standing. She waited to see if the leg would malfunction again. Her hearing picked up the mumbled curses under his breath. "Now, now. That so-called piece of s-crap allows you to be here."  
  
"I know. That's what I tell myself. Over and over again."  
  
"Come on. Let's hit the showers. It's working for now. Let's make the best of it."  
  
Too angry and tired to care what others saw, McQueen stripped in the locker room and entered the shower room, tossing his towel on the shelf above a shower. He dialed the water up to its hottest and slapped on the water, letting it beat against his chest. Water cascaded down his body and he let it wash away his anger and frustration as well as honest sweat. He ducked his head under the water, letting the water spill down his back.  
  
Hands touched his back lightly and McQueen put his hands on the wall, bracing, knowing what would happen without asking. Strong, sure strokes lathered his back and buttocks, easing down to his knees and all the way to his left foot. He lifted his foot when it was lightly tugged, praying that the artificial one would not malfunction. Foot back on the floor, McQueen then reveled in the feeling of someone washing his hair for him.  
  
"Turn around."  
  
Obeying, McQueen tilted his head back, letting the water rinse his hair. When he finally looked for Silver, she stood under another shower, washing her hair. They were alone. "Aren't you going to finish what you started?" A risk he knew.  
  
"Are you prepared to take the consequences?"  
  
"I'm a big boy."  
  
"I noticed."  
  
"That's not-" McQueen realized she was teasing him. "Yes."  
  
Silver turned off her shower and glided over to him. She picked up the soap again and started lathering his chest and abdomen.  
  
He placed his hands on her shoulders to steady himself as she started moving downward. "No Chig attacks, please," he breathed softly.  
  
Her hands touched him firmly, cleansing him thoroughly, like the nurses had done. But this was different. He was not flat on his back helpless. Silver's hands moved to the insides of his thighs and he sighed in regret. Then caressingly her hands returned to his groin, touching, stroking. His body responded eagerly.  
  
He pulled Silver to her feet and this time he initiated the kiss. Reluctantly McQueen released her a moment later. "What have you done to me?"  
  
"Not a thing. Yet." Silver laughed and stepped away. "I think I'll insure a bit of privacy." She went to the door and leaned out. "Hey, Finch, you still here?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Just a second."  
  
Silver waited until Finch arrived. "The colonel is experiencing some... difficulties. Don't let anyone in, hm?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am. You'll take care of the colonel?"  
  
"Yes. Oh, and remind me I want to speak to you about a song or two when I get out of here."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Smiling, Silver shut the door and returned to McQueen. "Now, where were we?"  
  
"Silver-"  
  
"I'm a big girl, McQueen. I know what I'm doing. Just be sure about yourself."  
  
"It's been a long time since I had anyone who wanted just me." McQueen cupped her cheek.  
  
"I don't work charity cases, McQueen. Decide now."  
  
McQueen closed his eyes. "Please," he asked softly.  
  
Her hands resumed their caresses and he moaned, barely audible. Then hot, wet flesh engulfed him and he gripped her head, trying not to thrust too deep. But she took his entire length, her tongue busy on his engorged flesh and he had to move. It had been far too long and his control was not enough. He pounded hard into her mouth and felt her taking him easily. The fire that burned through him exploded and he arched backward, pulling her head in tight.  
  
When he could think again, McQueen discovered himself on his hands and knees. Silver stroked his shoulders and back, easing his body again. "Told you it had been too long."  
  
"It's all right. I'm no stranger to deep throating. Now, let's finish up here. Don't want to give the youngsters too much to talk about. I've already rinsed you off. Up you go. Let me wrap this towel around you." Silver patted his ass. "Out with you. I'll be right along."  
  
"Silver-"  
  
"Don't argue. Go."  
  
McQueen left, realizing she wasn't going to take no for an answer. Before the door closed, a dressed Finch, holding another towel, ducked inside. No other members of the 58th remained in the locker room. Even taking his time, McQueen was mostly dressed when Silver left the shower, still talking to Finch. As Silver started dressing, McQueen allowed himself the luxury of watching her.  
  
She moved with an unconscious grace that reminded him of cats. Not domesticated ones, though. Silver struck him more as a panther, gliding, stalking, able to suddenly become still. Only her eyes alive then. He was unaware that others saw him the same way.  
  
"Finch, go set it up, please. The colonel and I will be along in a few mikes."  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Finch left.  
  
"What is she setting up? Oh, yes. A song fest, I believe you called it."  
  
Silver dressed quickly in her flight suit. "Time I started showing you what I meant."  
  
They found the 58th in their barracks. Finch was fiddling with a laptop computer hooked into a set of speakers. Russell and St. John stood nearby, waiting patiently. The rest of the squadron sat on their bunks, not sure what was going on.  
  
"Russell, rustle up a pair of chairs."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," grinned Russell and he darted out the door. He returned in a few minutes with two folding chairs. "I don't think they'll miss them, so I'll stow them away here."  
  
"Good idea, but make sure you leave a note as to where they are. Someone will have to account for them." Silver frowned at Russell.  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"'Kay, guys. Ready?" Finch looked up from the laptop. At their nods, she pressed a button and stood up, standing between the two men.  
  
Russell and St. John stood, heads bowed. Finch's music pulsed through the room. The two male voices rose and blended becoming one powerful voice. Finch's rose like an angel above them. The two men slowly raised their heads and looked at McQueen. They knew who the song was for.  
  
"Come all of you who lie in the prisons of the mighty, who refuse to deny what you believe, and know your greatest foe is the servant o' the night who tries to sell the bargain of reprieve. And when the captains o' the cruel come to whisper their lies, let their temptations fall by your side. Listen tae the ocean and remember how the rock stands firm against the tide.  
  
And you who would be jailers, take this warning - for every man you break upon your wheel, there's another whose courage will pierce you like a thorn, when you see you can never make him kneel. And when the thorn digs deep into the canker of your heart, and the prisoner sees the shame you cannot hide, it's then you'll fear the sound of the ocean, where the rock stands firm against the tide.  
  
No matter the freedom, no matter the cause, no matter the truth that lies beyond, no evil can triumph though it cloak itself in law, against a man whose word is his bond. No cage can hold the spirit of a true man's heart and injustice can never fetter pride. No tyrant can ever chain the ocean, while the rock stands firm against the tide.  
  
McQueen's chest felt tight as he heard the message. And he resolved to remain true to his name. The tide eventually destroys the rock, but it took time.  
  
After a brief pause, Russell looked at Silver. "We thought we might do a few more by McNeill."  
  
"Go on. Choose what you want."  
  
The three voices rose together.  
  
"I asked the Master Builder, why did he make John Muir from the seed of a man so hard and unforgiving? A father who tried to use the Gospel to ensure that his son's life would never be worth living. And the Lord's voice whispered on the High Sierra wind from the mountains where the clear waters lie, saying 'hold the bravest heart above the greatest of sins and I'll show how to make a hero rise.'  
  
Leave Calvin and the Bible to parish o' Dunbar. Give a blind man back his eyes to find the brightest of the stars. Then lead him to the altar of a better God by far in the vale of the redwood cathedral.  
  
I asked the Master Builder, how did he find the way to put the man in the mountains and the mountains in the man? How long to find the uncommon clay that he needed for his master builder's plan? And the Lord's voice came down from the High Sierra skies saying, 'take a heart of hard Scottish stone, plant the seed of a wild place deep down inside and I'll show you how to call a hero home.'  
  
Leave Calvin and the Bible to parish o' Dunbar. Give a blind man back his eyes to find the brightest of the stars. Then lead him to the altar of a better God by far in the vale of the redwood cathedral.  
  
And as I stand by the thunder of the roaring mountain falls, and hear California call you savior, I cannot help but wonder, had a different fortune called, would you have done the same for Scotland the Brave - your home and your fathers?  
  
God lives above the redwoods, so men say, looking down, straight and true, at the best of all his treasures, and if a man should stand among them to pray, it's against them the Lord will take his measure. And who grew straighter than Long Johnny Muir? A redwood of flesh, blood, and bone, filled by the Master Builder with a passion so pure for the mountains no single man can own.  
  
Leave Calvin and the Bible to parish o' Dunbar. Give a blind man back his eyes to find the brightest of the stars. Then lead him to the altar of a better God by far in the vale of the redwood cathedral.  
  
McQueen decided that the next time he was on Earth to visit the redwood forest. Looking up who John Muir had been was the next mental note. It surprised him to be considered a hero by these three. They did not strike him as hero worshipers. He noticed that Finch was rummaging in her foot locker.  
  
"My Uncle Jim, he served his time on the shores o' the Forth, as a joiner, and three pounds ten a week was all he earned, but the wages were better working Michigan pine so he sailed on an ocean liner to build a better life with the trade he'd learned. And the shore he reached in twenty-three, the home o' the brave, the land o' the free, was dry as the Devil's tongue on Judgement Day, but to find the dram in a foreign land, it's the natural gift of a Falkirk man, and Lady Liberty looked the other way, or so I've always heard my uncle say.  
  
For he's the best o' the barley, cream o' the crop. Easy on the water, I'll tell you when to stop. Would you please charge your glasses with the real pure drop, and drink to the best o' the barley.  
  
My Uncle Jim was a child of his time, and the tricks of the time were dirty, and dirtiest of all was the one they played on a working man's dollar and a poor man's dime between twenty-nine and thirty, for they killed all the steady jobs in the building trade. And the only way that Jim could see was to play the game with Lady Liberty, though no one ever told him all the rules, and when fainter hearts were homeward bound Jim sold Michigan ice by the pound, with a leather sling and an iron hook for tools, just to show the Yankees how to keep their cool.  
  
For he's the best o' the barley, cream o' the crop. Easy on the water, I'll tell you when to stop. Would you please charge your glasses with the real pure drop, and drink to the best o' the barley.  
  
My Uncle Jim, he could keep good time when the band played an eightsome reel, and loved to waltz away the summer nights, and the spring in his step kept him in his prime, through the turns of fortune's wheel as it spun him through the darkness and the light. And to dance the jig called history, Jim took the hand of the century, and he never let her steal a backward glance. From the D-Day beaches to the cold lake shore, he whirled her round and round the floor to show her how a Scotsman takes his chance, and he never missed a measure o' the dance.  
  
For he's the best o' the barley, cream o' the crop. Easy on the water, I'll tell you when to stop. Would you please charge your glasses with the real pure drop, and drink to the best o' the barley. Here's a health to the best of the barley, to Scotland and the best of the barley.  
  
Carrying a tray, Finch stood up. "And here's real Scotch malt whiskey. I've only got eight shot glasses. So, Colonel McQueen, as head CO, do you mind?" She held out the three quarters full Scotch bottle, balancing the tray on one hand.  
  
McQueen nodded, rising and taking the bottle. One by one, the filled shot glasses were taken. He remained standing, knowing he should make a toast. "To absent friends. To the Corps."  
  
After no one spoke for several seconds, Silver toasted, "To the best of the barley." She tossed her whiskey back in a single gulp and so did the three singers.  
  
McQueen, not to be outdone, took a large swallow from the bottle and nearly choked. It was a lot better than the scotch he normally drank. He glanced at the label. Aged twenty five years. He met Silver's eyes and saw how she laughed silently at him and the rest of his squad as they had the same reaction to the whiskey. "Woman," he growled, "you should know better than to do something like that to us poor Marines. A drink like this should be savored, not tossed back."  
  
Hawkes stared at his glass. "Hey, that tastes different!"  
  
"That's because it's a real drink," West said. "They serve the cheap stuff to us at the Tun." He looked at McQueen. "How old is this stuff?"  
  
"Twenty five years."  
  
"No wonder." West held his glass out toward McQueen. "Another, please."  
  
McQueen found himself playing bartender to the squad as they all had another shot. When Hawkes started to toss back the shot, McQueen said, "Savor it, Hawkes. Small sips. Enjoy it. You'll not taste its like again."  
  
"I wouldn't say that," drawled Silver. "Take a real good look at the label."  
  
Doing so, McQueen saw, 'Robert Taylor Silver Distillery.' "Your family?"  
  
She smiled broadly. "My great-grandfather started it. And since it can not be called a true Scotch whiskey unless it is fermented in Scotland, at least one member of the family has to run the place. Patrick, my slightly older brother, is the lucky fellow this generation. The rest of us get free samples every year." She sipped her whiskey.  
  
"I'll never drink whiskey in the Tun again." 'Phousse sat on her bunk, sipping lightly. "Beer only."  
  
"What other surprises do you have up your sleeve, colonel?" asked McQueen.  
  
Silver made a production of looking up her sleeves. "Why, none, colonel." She grinned. "For now at any rate."  
  
Hawkes looked sheepishly at McQueen. "Can I have another?" He stared down at his feet when McQueen frowned at him.  
  
"One more," relented McQueen. He poured it and looked around. Another round poured, he sipped from the nearly empty bottle.  
  
"All right, folks. We have an 0830 briefing. Get some sleep." Silver rose. "Bring the bottle, colonel."  
  
"Night, 5-8." McQueen nodded to his kids who smiled at him.  
  
Silver let McQueen out first, then shut the hatch after herself. "Your quarters, colonel."  
  
"What do you have in mind, colonel?" McQueen asked, starting down the corridor.  
  
"Helping you sleep tonight."  
  
He pulled up short, eyes narrowed.  
  
"I heard you last night when I was having difficulty settling down to sleep."  
  
McQueen stiffened.  
  
"I did some quiet asking around and discovered that everyone knows to avoid the corridor outside your quarters at night. Hell, even the people who live around you have sound proofed their quarters. You might consider doing the same. Make life a little easier on everyone."  
  
"It's my life."  
  
"And keeping you sane is my responsibility. Get used to it. You can't pull rank on me and run away. I'm going to find a way to help you even if it means beating you against the bloody wall in your skull. You're stuck with me, colonel. And I'm very tenacious."  
  
Back ramrod straight, McQueen stalked down the corridor. Silver followed, several paces back. At his quarters, she waited patiently while he typed his lock code. Despite the fact he did not invite her in, Silver caught the hatch before it closed and entered. Locking it behind her, she turned around to view his quarters.  
  
His spartan quarters told her much. She swiftly eyed the numerous books on a shelf. Mostly war and eastern philosophy, she noticed. A bonsai tree sat on the corner of one desk along with what she thought were calligraphy brushes. Near the bonsai rested an Asian style teapot with a couple of cups. Several books were on the desk, including her copy of the Hobbit. On the wall was a copy of the unfinished picture of George Washington and she could only wonder why that one. Nearby a framed Purple Heart hung and she wondered about the other medals she knew he had earned over the years. What was so special about that particular one? A little further over another picture of- was that W. C. Fields? Interesting choice, she thought. So, there is a sense of humor under the gruff exterior. The only personal pictures were perched on the desk with the bonsai tree. The Angry Angels stared out of one photo and the 58th out of the other. The other desk held only objects of work orientation: several reports, what appeared to be a schedule, a cup of pens, no photos, and a manual of the SA-43 Hammerhead.  
  
"Get out!"  
  
Silver faced the icy blue gaze calmly and reached over to take the whiskey bottle. "It's my bottle, McQueen."  
  
"Take it and get out!" He thrust it at her.  
  
Silver took it and poured herself another shot before tossing the bottle back to him. As he caught it, she said, "Cool it, McQueen. As the saying goes, 'you doth protest too much.'"  
  
This effectively silenced McQueen for several seconds. Angrily, McQueen took a swig from the bottle, finishing off the whiskey. "There. It's empty. Now get out." His voice was cold.  
  
Shaking her head, Silver stated, "You really are a porcupine, McQueen. Fine. I'm not the one who's going to lose sleep and be unfit for flying in a simulator in the morning." Her voice became clipped. "0900. VR simulation. Be there. Night, colonel."  
  
She had unlocked the door and shut it behind her before the meaning of her words penetrated his cold rage. She couldn't possibly mean for him to practice. There was no reason to. He was grounded for good. By the time he opened the hatch, she was no where to be seen. McQueen sighed and locked the hatch.  
  
****  
  
The familiar nightmare gripped McQueen. The AIs tortured him, breaking body and spirit.  
  
McQueen snapped awake, drenched in sweat, hearing his screams in his ears. Shudders coursed through him as his body and mind remembered the feel of whips, knives, electrodes, and other vicious things done to him, all designed to break him. He threw the covers back and stalked into the bathroom. Stripping out of the sweat soaked t-shirt, McQueen flung it to the floor and slapped on the water, dialing it to the coldest setting.  
  
The shock of frigid water jarred his body and mind away from the nightmares. He sighed, wondering just how Silver had intended to combat the nightmares. Regretting his angry response to her effort to help him, McQueen shut off the water and wondered if she would accept an apology at this late hour.  
  
With another sigh, McQueen started to towel dry and decided to apologize in the morning.  
  
Red alert klaxons interrupted his thoughts. 


	3. Blood and Souls, Chapter Three

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17 (slash - in later chapters, can be skipped, warning will be issued with the chapter), violence, and lots of graphic sex in later chapters.  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter Three  
  
Running onto the bridge, McQueen found that, again, Silver had arrived before him and already authorized the launch of the seven squadrons called to fight. As before, when she saw him approaching, Silver relinquished his chair.  
  
As he sat down, McQueen tried to gauge her mood. It boded ill that she looked through him. He dragged his attention to the combat outside.  
  
Listening to McQueen's cool, calm voice giving orders, Silver nodded slightly to herself. She had spotted the fact his hair was still damp. And she had heard him screaming, pausing outside his quarters. She had almost given in to the impulse to knock, to offer her help again, but she had decided that he would have to ask next time.  
  
She stepped over to an empty LIDAR station, studying the forces. Rotating the LIDAR display slightly, Silver noticed something peculiar. None of the Chigs crossed a certain open spot. They flew all around it, but never through it. And the open area was slowly moving, shifting toward the Saratoga.  
  
Silver's eyes narrowed. She remembered McIntyre idly talking about the possibility of the Chigs being able to hide a Hive ship from LIDAR. There was only one way to find out. "Colonel McQueen, send someone to visually check on 44, 54 by 45."  
  
McQueen frowned at her.  
  
"Call it a hunch."  
  
After a moment of studying her, McQueen spoke into his mike. "Queen of Hearts, proceed to coordinates 44, 54 by 45. Visual inspection."  
  
"Roger, Queen 6."  
  
Silver felt a chill run down her back and knew she was right. "Send the whole squad, colonel. One won't be enough."  
  
"Queen of Hearts, take the deck."  
  
"Understood, Queen 6."  
  
The commodore approached Silver. "What is it, colonel?"  
  
She pointed to the rotated LIDAR display. "There's something out there that the Chigs don't want to get in front of. The only thing I can thing of is big and nasty and wants to blow a hole in the Saratoga."  
  
Studying the display, Ross nodded. "You just may be right. McQueen, take a look at this."  
  
McQueen stepped over to the display and frowned. Seconds later, he spoke into his mike. "Queen of Hearts, report."  
  
"Nothing here, Queen 6. A whole lot of noth- Holy shit! Juke! Juke!" Vansen screamed over her mike. "Evasive! Get the hell out of here!"  
  
"Where the hell did that come from?" Hawkes sounded panicked.  
  
"Report, Queen of Hearts."  
  
Silver could hear the effort it took McQueen to sound calm.  
  
"Must be a super Hive ship, Queen 6. Three times as big and it's got one helluva gun on it. But it's slow. No fighters around it - scratch that. Fifteen fighters just launched." Vansen's voice shook.  
  
"Get back to base, Queen of Hearts. Down out of its way."  
  
"Roger that."  
  
Ross turned to the helmsman. "Take her down thirty degrees off the elliptic. Roll fifty degrees to port. Full speed. Bring all starboard tubes and guns to bear on," he checked the LIDAR, "43, 53 by 44."  
  
"Aye, aye, sir."  
  
The recoil of the massive fifteen starboard missile launchers shook the Saratoga. Numerous lesser recoils marked the firing of the faster thirteen starboard laser cannons.  
  
"Doesn't look like much damage done so far," reported Vansen. "The gun has shifted position to follow you, Saratoga."  
  
"Get back to base, Queen of Hearts."  
  
"Someone has to report what's happening, Queen 6. Here come the missiles. Damn, the Chig fighters threw themselves on the missiles. Shit! It's firing, Saratoga! Repeat, it's firing! Juke! Out of the way! Scatter! It's a massive plasma bolt, Saratoga!"  
  
Every head, except the helmsman, turned to gaze out the starboard view port. Two minutes later, at thirty feet in diameter, the plasma bolt became visible and sped past the view port. Everyone held their breath. Ross, McQueen and Silver gripped the consoles before them.  
  
The Saratoga lurched and spun on her aft quarter.  
  
"It's firing again, Saratoga!"  
  
"Roll the ship! Bring her belly up!" Ross' knuckles were white.  
  
"She's sluggish, sir. We lost some engine power and a quarter of the rear thrusters," announced the helmsman even as he was obeying.  
  
Silver knew they had to get the top of the ship up out of the way or this shot would strike the bridge head on. The belly of the ship could take more damage; fewer vital areas were situated there, though that's where the landing bays were.  
  
Slowly, the Saratoga's orientation changed. The human components could only pray it was enough as the second plasma bolt disappeared from their view.  
  
The Saratoga bucked, knocking everyone off their feet or out of their seats. The bridge pressure doors slammed shut and Silver's hearing picked up the whistle of escaping air. Grabbing a solid metal clipboard, Silver prayed the hole wasn't too big. She could feel the air pressure dropping rapidly.  
  
"Over here."  
  
McQueen had struggled over next to the bridge doors. He had wrapped his arm around a rail and pointed to a palm-sized hole in the side of the bridge.  
  
"Hold me." Silver moved closer to the hole, holding the clipboard vertical before her. She felt a hand gripping the back of her flight suit and edged as close as she could. Judging the angle to be right, Silver released the clipboard.  
  
It slammed in place across the hole, sealing it.  
  
"Damage control, seal that hole." Ross stood, breathing hard. Too much air had escaped for easy breathing.  
  
Released from McQueen's grip, Silver pulled open the emergency air mask supply. She started tossing them to McQueen, letting him decide who got them.  
  
The last one in hand, Silver turned to face McQueen. He didn't have one either. She took a deep breath from the mask and tossed it to McQueen. "You'll need it more."  
  
McQueen started to toss it back, but Silver had turned to face the view port, forcing him to keep it.  
  
"Saratoga, are you there? Come in, Queen 6!"  
  
"Queen of Hearts, more fighters coming in!" yelled Phousse.  
  
"Please don't get any worse," whispered Silver.  
  
"Saratoga, it's still homing in on your position! It's firing again."  
  
"It just got worse," McQueen stated quietly.  
  
"Helm!"  
  
"I'm trying, sir." The helmsman did not look up from his controls, blood pouring from a scalp wound over his forehead. A second lieutenant fastened an air mask over the helmsman's face. "We've lost all starboard thrusters. I'm trying to compensate with the port side."  
  
Ross refrained from badgering the man. He knew the lieutenant commander was doing everything in his power to move the ship.  
  
"Sir, permission to do something radical?"  
  
"Do it, helm."  
  
"Give me intra-ship. Attention, all hands! Prepare for zero G maneuvers in one mike."  
  
"Cutting it a little close, aren't you?" remarked Ross.  
  
"It'll take me that long to get it ready. Engine room, prepare to cut all grav power on my mark."  
  
"Understood," came a shaken voice over the intercom.  
  
The helmsman stood up, flipping switches, ruthlessly shutting down screaming alarms. "If this doesn't work, sir, we'll be dead in the water."  
  
"One way or the other, we'll be dead, son."  
  
"Yes, sir." A deep breath and the lieutenant sat down, gripping the wheel. "Engine room, ready, ready, mark."  
  
The gravity through out the ship ceased and the lieutenant sent all the extra power into the port thrusters, which he had reversed the direction on.  
  
The Saratoga snapped through its roll.  
  
The plasma bolt struck.  
  
The Saratoga's bottom took the punishment back by the engines, but the force of the impact forced the ship into a vertical position, nose up.  
  
McQueen fought to get his feet under him on the rail. He launched himself toward his command seat.  
  
"Is anyone alive in there? Saratoga, answer!"  
  
"Queen of Hearts, status." McQueen's voice still managed to sound calm, collected.  
  
"Alive, but barely. We're losing pilots out here. There's too many of them and we're running out of ammo."  
  
Commodore Ross bellowed, "Bring the port tubes to bear. Program the course into the missiles manually. If we take it out, maybe the fighters will retreat. Use the laser cannons as a guide for the missiles. Multiple salvos."  
  
"It's the only chance we have," McQueen muttered.  
  
"Get the fighters out of there. There's nothing they can do, but die, now." Silver sighed.  
  
Ross looked over at McQueen. "You heard the lady. Pass the order."  
  
McQueen took a deep breath and tossed the air mask to Silver. She caught it as she launched herself to his position, breathing in the cool air. She wrapped a leg around the rail.  
  
"Queen 6 to all fighter units. Break off and retreat."  
  
"Where to, Queen 6?"  
  
"Just run, Queen of Hearts. You aren't doing any good out there now. Save yourselves."  
  
"Roger that, Queen 6."  
  
"Can we re-establish gravity?" asked Ross.  
  
"No, sir. The maneuver stressed out a third of the relays," reported the helmsman. "Told you it was radical, sir." He was wiping blood from his face again. "And only half of the port thrusters are responding now."  
  
"If we don't hit this thing, McQueen--" Silver leaned over McQueen's shoulder, whispering, "sorry if I made you mad."  
  
He flashed her an intent look. Equally soft, McQueen replied, "I overreacted. I'm sorry."  
  
"Is this a red letter day or something?"  
  
He saw the slight smile, taking the sting out of the words. "Not quite. I have been known to apologize, on those exceedingly rare occasions I've been wrong."  
  
His effort was rewarded with a real smile, though brief. She pressed the air mask to his face. "Breathe."  
  
Holding the mask and taking a deep breath, McQueen forced his body to relax. There was nothing left for him to do but wait. It was out of his hands. He glanced up at Silver.  
  
She stood, staring out the view port with a longing look. When he touched her hand lightly, Silver gave him a quick smile and answered the question in his eyes. "I was just wishing we could have traveled the stars in peace."  
  
McQueen nodded.  
  
"Lasers cannons ready to fire. Missiles ready in five mikes," reported the gunnery sergeant.  
  
"Acknowledged." Ross muttered to McQueen, "Let's hope we have that long."  
  
The Saratoga started to shudder under the onslaught of the Chig fighters. Laser cannons that could not fire on the Hive vessel targeted the smaller craft swarming around the carrier.  
  
"My poor ship," Ross sighed. "Where the hell are those missiles?"  
  
"Missiles ready, sir."  
  
"Acquire laser cannon target."  
  
"Acquired, sir."  
  
"Fire repeatedly."  
  
"Firing, sir."  
  
"Launch missiles."  
  
"Tubes 1 thru 15 launching." The Saratoga lurched as the fifteen port missile tubes emptied.  
  
"Reload missile tubes."  
  
"Reloading, sir."  
  
"Fire when ready."  
  
"Firing, sir."  
  
"Reload."  
  
"Reloading, sir."  
  
"McQueen, we need a visual. The damn thing isn't showing up on LIDAR."  
  
Heavily, McQueen nodded. "Queen of Hearts, status."  
  
"Two mikes off your bow, Queen 6."  
  
"We need a visual."  
  
"Understood. 64, 58, we're going in hot and fast. 64, fly in our ten. Full throttle. Shoot only if you have to. Conserve what ammo you have."  
  
McQueen listened to the chorus of acknowledgments and closed his eyes, head hanging down slightly.  
  
The Chig fighters ignored the Hammerheads, concentrating on the larger target.  
  
"Queen 6, it looks to be retreating. Heavy damage to its starboard side. Adjust firing five degrees up elliptic."  
  
The gunnery sergeant passed the information on to the missile loaders.  
  
"Last salvo ready, sir."  
  
"Fire."  
  
"Firing, sir."  
  
Minutes later came, "It's definitely on the run, Queen 6. It's still kicking, but it is badly damaged. The last several missiles ran out of fuel before reaching it."  
  
"Fighters breaking off, sir."  
  
"Queen of Hearts, get out of there. Fighters headed your way."  
  
"Understood, Queen 6. Let's go home, folks. Full throttle. Blow through these bastards."  
  
The pressure sealed doors opened and the damage control parties swam in to repair the damage to the bridge.  
  
Silver glanced at the time. 0343. Not a lot of the night left.  
  
"Good job, people. Now let's clean up this mess." Ross rested his hand on McQueen's shoulder. "Better find out what shape our bays are in. I want to bring our people in."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Ross' look dismissed both colonels and he turned to the business of discovering how much damage had been done to the carrier he commanded. The two colonels kicked off the deck, swimming out the open hatch, dodging various personnel.  
  
After several near collisions with people and bulkheads, McQueen and Silver reached Docking Bay 1. Crews were diligently working to clear the debris from the cockpit cradles, but at least two would need to be completely replaced.  
  
"This doesn't look good." Silver floated just inside the hatchway.  
  
"Let's try number two."  
  
Only one cockpit cradle was free and clear.  
  
"I hope three is all right. It looks like we're going to need every cradle available." Silver sighed and pushed off.  
  
"It's further aft," warned McQueen. "I doubt it will be."  
  
Docking Bay 3 had suffered surprisingly light damage. It was the landing bay below that had taken heavy damage. A damage control crew member informed them that the cradles were all functional. There just was no way to get a Hammerhead in so that they could use the cradles.  
  
"Let's go see it first hand." McQueen unclenched his fists. "Maybe if they fly slow enough, it's possible."  
  
Outside the landing bay, they found the view port still intact. Looking in, they could see structural beams cluttered the bay, but the area under the docking bay remained comparatively clear.  
  
"It'll be hours before any of the bays are fit to use." sighed McQueen.  
  
"And our people need to get in, at least to rearm." Silver watched the vacuum-suited damage control crews work. "I'm suiting up."  
  
McQueen accompanied her, knowing what she intended. In the airless bay, they ducked and floated over the obstacles. One particular beam blocked the bay quite thoroughly.  
  
"If we can get this one shifted, the pilots should be able to navigate around the rest of it, if they go slow. One at a time."  
  
"I'll get the damage control people." McQueen headed back to where the crews were working.  
  
The crew chief agreed with their assessment and assigned it priority.  
  
An hour later, the first Hammerhead landed. Those Hammerheads too badly damaged to maneuver through the tight spots were directed to Landing Bay 1. There the cockpits were manually removed and hooked up to air for transfer out of the bay.  
  
It took two hours to get all the pilots in. The pilots were sent to either Medical or their quarters. Squadron COs were informed of lost pilots. The 58th had suffered no losses.  
  
Once all the pilots were in, McQueen allowed himself to sag against a wall.  
  
"Attention, all hands. Gravity will return in five mikes."  
  
"Better get situated. Hate to fall from the ceiling." Silver rotated and pushed gently off the ceiling. Reaching up, she tugged on McQueen's leg, bringing him down beside her.  
  
They waited patiently until the gravity had been restored.  
  
"The state things are in, I think I'll have to postpone the lectures and simulator practice. The squad needs the rest."  
  
McQueen nodded. "Let's inform them."  
  
The 58th were sound asleep, stripped down to tank tops and shorts. McQueen gently woke Vansen, informing her that their duties were suspended for the day and that the lectures and VR simulations would be tomorrow.  
  
"Thanks. I'll shut off the alarm." Vansen reached up and missed her timepiece. "God, I can't even see straight."  
  
"Let me." McQueen turned the alarm off. "Go back to sleep, Shane."  
  
"Thanks, sir."  
  
Dogging the hatch behind them, McQueen looked at Silver. "Hungry?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Neither am I."  
  
"I can feel the fatigue catching up with me."  
  
McQueen decided to risk a rejection. "Silver, I would appreciate it if you would come to my quarters." He glanced at the floor. "I would like to get some sleep."  
  
"Tell me something. How much sleep do you average a night?" Silver started walking.  
  
"Three to four hours, on a good night." McQueen did not look at her.  
  
"Are you satisfied with that?"  
  
"No. I may be engineered to function on that little sleep for long stretches, but I eventually crash. And when I do, nothing gets me up for twenty-four straight hours. Literally."  
  
"I believe it. Are you willing to work with me so I can help you?"  
  
McQueen took a deep breath and committed himself. "Yes."  
  
"Even if I have to dredge up stuff you don't want to remember?"  
  
"Will it be confidential?'  
  
"Very."  
  
It took McQueen a moment to answer. "Yes."  
  
"Are there sounds that you associate with good memories?"  
  
"Children's laughter. The ocean. Running water like a stream or a river."  
  
Silver stopped before his quarters. "Do you have an optical player?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'll be back in a moment."  
  
"Silver, I... I want to thank you." He rushed the words out.  
  
"I can't make any promises, but I'll see if I can help you." She squeezed his arm gently and headed down the corridor.  
  
McQueen straightened his cabin while waiting for her to return. When ten minutes had gone by, he reasoned that she had stayed to tidy up her own cabin. Twenty minutes and he decided that she was not coming back. His insecurities made him his own worse enemy. He slumped down on his bed.  
  
He was still there when five minutes later a knock came on the hatch. "Who's at my hatch?" he asked dully.  
  
"Silver. My hands are full."  
  
McQueen sprang up and opened the door.  
  
As she entered, Silver saw the relief in his eyes even though his face showed its usual mask. "What, did you think I wasn't coming back?"  
  
"It occurred to me." He shut the hatch and eyed the armful of items she carried.  
  
"I keep my word, McQueen."  
  
"It's just-"  
  
"It's just too many people have treated you like dirt and you expect it."  
  
McQueen nodded curtly.  
  
"My room was a mess. Now, tonight, I just want to get you to sleep. Go take a hot shower, as hot as you can stand it. Then come out and lie down on your stomach. Don't dress." Silver started setting items down on the desk nearest the bed. "Go."  
  
When McQueen stepped out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry, he found Silver sitting in a chair, eyes closed. He hesitated until she waved a hand at the bed. The covers lay folded down to the foot of the bed so only his feet would rest on them.  
  
"Make yourself comfortable."  
  
McQueen stretched out, hands under his head, which he turned so he could see Silver. She rose in a smooth motion and unzipped her flight suit, letting it fall to the floor, leaving on her tank top and shorts. Her boots were already tucked under the chair.  
  
Reaching onto the desk, Silver pressed a button on the optical player, setting it to repeat. The sound of the ocean filled the room. She picked up a plastic bottle and carried it onto the bed, settling her weight across his buttocks.  
  
Pouring some oil on her hands and rubbing them together to warm the oil, Silver studied the scarred back before her. Fine white scars crisscrossed his back and she knew someone had taken a cat o'nine tails or a baton to his back. Hard enough and deep enough that his body still had not healed them completely in ten years. Forcing her anger at the thought deep down inside, Silver took a cleansing breath, exhaling through her nose. Slowly, she started to spread the oil across his shoulders, working it into his skin firmly.  
  
The tension in his body slowly eased and he did not tense up even as she worked her way up to the base of his skull. She massaged down to his elbows and then returned to his back. As she started to move down his back, Silver scooted herself down to his thighs. Taking her time, Silver worked out the muscle knots that seemed to encompass his back. She settled into a rhythm, returning to his lower neck and working downward until she encountered no more knots. Moving further down his body allowed her to work on his hips and buttocks. Again she worked until the muscles had relaxed before moving. Each thigh she did separately, followed by his knees. His left lower leg and foot she placed in her lap as she worked on it.  
  
When she finally stood up and stretched, Silver saw his eyes were closed and he breathed deeply, slowly. No frown marred his brow and he looked more peaceful than she could think of ever seeing him. Drawing the covers carefully up over his body, Silver stroked his cheek and kissed his temple lightly.  
  
She took a hot shower and dressed again. He had not moved at all.  
  
A spare blanket and pillow comprised her bed on the floor. Yawning, Silver settled down, ready to wake if needed.  
  
****  
  
Waking slowly, McQueen heard the ocean waves and smiled, knowing that at least three hours of restful sleep were behind him. He lay on his side, pillow tucked between his arm and head, covers down to his waist. Sitting up, he saw Silver on the floor, sleeping on her back. Guilt immediately assailed him, knowing she couldn't be very comfortable and that she had slept there to allow him to rest. He knew he had drifted to sleep while she had been working on his lower back and from the feel of his body; she had gone all the way to the foot. It had been so long since he had felt so relaxed that it made him feel even guiltier.  
  
He knelt down, intending to put her on the bed, when her eyes opened.  
  
"Feeling better?"  
  
"Yes. You didn't have to sleep there."  
  
"I wanted to be near, but not too near, in case you needed me." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "Better shave before you go out."  
  
"How long have I slept?"  
  
Silver checked her timepiece. "Five hours."  
  
His eyes closed briefly. "I haven't slept that long in months."  
  
"And you didn't have nightmares. It's a start."  
  
"How much sleep did you get, Silver?"  
  
"Hm, almost four."  
  
The guilt hit him harder. "You spent over an hour after I fell asleep giving me a massage?"  
  
"Tyrus Cassius McQueen, it was my choice. Do NOT feel guilty about it. I wanted to make sure you got some real sleep. And I didn't want to be on the bed in case you didn't. I do not relish the idea of being attacked in my sleep."  
  
"I would never-"  
  
"McQueen, I know the type of nightmares you have. I have had them and friends of mine still have them, though not quite so frequently now. That's because, unlike you, they have had people to care for them and help them. I told you, I've spent nearly three months as the guest of AIs. I know what can be done to the human body and what it does to the soul."  
  
His mind switched tracks and it occurred to McQueen that he was kneeling beside her, still naked and sporting his usual morning erection. "I-" He looked away, embarrassed.  
  
"It's all right. I've seen it all once already."  
  
Remembering what she had done only caused him to harden further. "Silver, I'm not used to someone being with me, like this. It's been a long time since I woke up with someone even in the room with me."  
  
Smiling, Silver rolled over onto her stomach and quickly rose. She cupped his cheek and looked him intently in the eyes as he stood up beside her. "Don't worry. You're doing just fine. Tonight, I want you to play one of the optical discs I brought and try to sleep. If you can't, or find yourself clawing your way out of another nightmare, come get me. All right?"  
  
He nodded. "You're leaving."  
  
"I need clean clothes, food and some more sleep. And if I stay here, something might happen that you are not ready to handle just yet."  
  
"May I join you for breakfast?"  
  
"It's more like lunch, but yes, I would enjoy the company. As long as you promise not to close up on me just because you're in public. There's no reason you can't talk to me."  
  
"I'll do my best."  
  
"That's all I ask. Half an hour, Officer's Mess."  
  
"I'll be there."  
  
****  
  
Silver and McQueen ate a substantial meal, talking about people they had known, good things they had done. While they were eating, the 58th came in. McQueen hesitated, but seeing the challenge in Silver's eyes, beckoned the squadron over to join them. The discussion changed to the battle only hours in the past.  
  
Watching McQueen with the squadron, Silver saw how surprised and grateful the squadron was that McQueen had invited them over. They respected McQueen, even loved him as a father, but knew how he hated to have his personal space invaded. But they were eager for his signs of approval, just as they dreaded his disapproval.  
  
Silver looked over at Finch. "See how much of the run is intact and figure out changes as necessary."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"The run is still on?" groaned West.  
  
"Every night. We have a tough mission coming up and I want you all in top shape. Lives will probably depend on it."  
  
When the squadron showed signs of getting ready to leave, Silver rose. Fingertips on McQueen's shoulder, she said, "I have work to do for tomorrow. Plus I need to check out my Hammerhead. The flight chief said he'd fix the fuse problem I've been having. But I still need to take a look at it.  
  
"Is that why you haven't flown with us yet?" Hawkes asked.  
  
"Yes. Randall said replacing the fuse relays was a thirty-hour job and he started it soon after I got here. I really didn't relish getting in a furball in a craft that every time I pull a hard turn, the engine cuts out."  
  
"Bummer." Hawkes shook his head.  
  
"Good thing you weren't out there this time. I missed what was happening," admitted McQueen.  
  
"You would have figured it out. Especially after the first shot landed."  
  
"The first shot would have finished us."  
  
"Maybe. But the Toga's a tough old gal." Silver shrugged. "That was good flying, 5-8."  
  
"Thanks." Hawkes grinned, then turned serious. "Can I help you with your Hammerhead?"  
  
"Sure. Come on."  
  
Disappointed, McQueen watched her leave with Hawkes.  
  
"Sir, is something going on?" asked Vansen.  
  
"I don't know, Vansen. I really don't know."  
  
McQueen did not see Silver before 1800. It turned out that most of the run was intact. He could not help but be pleased that his leg did not malfunction once. In the shower, Silver washed only his back. When he glanced at her, she appeared to be distracted, thinking about something. With a sigh, he knew nothing would happen this time.  
  
******  
  
Keeping herself away from McQueen physically proved to be harder than Silver had anticipated. Her shower was a lot colder than she liked under normal circumstances.  
  
******  
  
Heart pounding, screaming, McQueen snapped awake. He cursed fluently as he sat up, pressing the heels of his hands into the blinding headache just above his eyes. Briefly he considered getting Silver, but decided to try and sleep once again. The sound of the ocean did help him relax.  
  
Two hours later, fighting his covers and screaming, McQueen rolled onto the floor. It was a lost cause. There was no way he was going to get any real sleep on his own tonight.  
  
He flung on his flight suit and boots, raking his fingers through sweat soaked hair.  
  
The pounding on her hatch woke Silver. She opened the hatch. "In."  
  
He lurched in, collapsing in a heap at the foot of her bed. Arms on his knees and head on his arms, McQueen breathed heavily. "I can't sleep. I've woken twice so far tonight, screaming."  
  
"All right. Go back to your quarters. Heat up enough water for two mugs."  
  
"Coffee?" He dreaded the thought of caffeine.  
  
"No. I'm going to bring over a special herb tea. No caffeine. It helps relax and ease tension."  
  
He looked up at her, dressed in the khaki tank top and shorts, and wanted to pull her in his arms. But she did not look interested. So with a sigh, McQueen rose and headed back to his quarters.  
  
Several minutes later, she knocked and McQueen let her in. "Water's hot." He gestured to where two large mugs of steaming hot water sat on his desk. McQueen stared at her feet.  
  
"Good. Go take a quick shower." Silver had dressed in her flight suit. She noticed his stare and glanced down with a smile. Bunny slippers. "I wanted something comfortable and they were a gift."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "But bunny slippers?"  
  
"My daughter got them for me. She has this idea that I need some homey things. So she sends me stuff like this all the time." Silver pointed to the bathroom. "Now, go shower."  
  
As he obeyed, Silver smiled and started the tea steeping in special reusable tea bags.  
  
The tea was ready five minutes later. She looked up as he came out, toweling his upper body dry, dressed in khaki shorts. "Good. How's the headache?"  
  
"Barely manageable."  
  
"Drink your tea. It's still quite hot."  
  
Sipping her own tea, Silver tapped a book. "May I?"  
  
"Yes." He sat on his bed.  
  
"Shakespeare's Sonnets. Good choice." She flipped through quietly, every so often stopping and reading quickly.  
  
With surprise, McQueen noticed that Silver appeared to read as quickly as himself when he chose to. Most of the time, he liked to take his time, savoring the words. He felt the muscles in his shoulders and neck ease slightly, which helped the pounding headache.  
  
She finished her tea first. Setting the mug and the book down carefully, Silver gestured to his mug. "Going to take all night?"  
  
"Will it keep you here?"  
  
"That's not what you need right now. Trust me. And I'm not looking for some quick sex. I need a deeper relationship than that. When you're ready for me, you'll know and so will I. In the meantime, I'll do what I can to help you deal with your sleeping problems."  
  
"Silver-"  
  
She placed her hand over his mouth lightly. "Don't. Don't make this harder than it already is. Yes, I want you. Yes, I crave the feel of your body against mine. But, you aren't ready for a deep relationship. So, for now, I will be your friend, if you will let me." She removed her hand.  
  
McQueen nodded, hearing truth in her tone. Tears stung his eyes and he looked down at his hands.  
  
The optical disc started playing and he drank the last of his tea in two gulps, control back. Setting the mug on the desk, he asked quietly, "What do you want me to do?"  
  
"Sit in the chair." She spun it to face the work desk and moved everything to create a clear space for his arms.  
  
Like in the briefing room, Silver worked his neck, shoulders and upper back. Satisfied with the lowered level of muscle tension, she sent him to bed. He stretched out on his stomach again and she sat beside him working his lower back.  
  
It took time, but he eventually fell asleep. Silver waited for a while before leaving.  
  
****  
  
McQueen's alarm woke him at 0530 and he sighed on not seeing Silver.  
  
****  
  
Vansen showed up at the briefing room at 0800 and found Silver there alone. "Capt. Vansen reporting as ordered, ma'am."  
  
"At ease."  
  
"The schedule you requested, ma'am."  
  
"Thank you, Capt." Silver took the ledger and looked steadily at Vansen. "Captain, I know you don't trust me."  
  
Vansen remained quiet.  
  
"Just try to keep an open mind, hm? Don't undermine me. I know my job and I'm damn good at it."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Dismissed. See you in half an hour."  
  
****  
  
Silver looked at the eight people seated before her, including McQueen. "Colonel, do you know what the Immelmann is?"  
  
"It is an atmosphere maneuver from WWI. Named after Max Immelmann, a German pilot. He would dive on an enemy pilot, zoom past, and pull up. Before he stalled, he would snap his plane around, and dive back down on his target."  
  
"When did you look it up?"  
  
"This morning, to refresh my memory."  
  
Silver nodded. "Did any of the rest of you think to do so?"  
  
Hawkes raised his hand. "I did, ma'am. Of what use is it in space?"  
  
"It is an excellent tactic to remember when in an atmosphere. Because of the Hammerhead's design, you are actually able to do an Immelmann that leaves you facing your enemy at all times. It requires some practice since you need to use your forward and reverse thrusters alternately. A modified Immelmann can be used in space."  
  
When Hawkes merely shook his head, Silver sighed softly. "I'll show you on the sims. Which is where we are going now."  
  
In the flight simulation room, two Hammerhead cockpits were set up. "McQueen, you take the right one. Phousse, you get in the other one. You are dog fighting one another. Winner gets to take on the next person."  
  
McQueen strapped on the helmet and slipped the gloves on, feeling a part of himself inside relax. He loved flying. It had been too long since he had even done a simulation. As space showed in his cockpit, McQueen allowed himself to become the hunter, immersing himself into the simulation.  
  
In three minutes, Phousse was dead. Russell lasted six, St. John five. Next came West. McQueen destroyed him in six minutes. It took four for him to blow Finch out of space. Vansen made it to seven minutes.  
  
Hawkes was tougher. They battled back and forth, dodging out of each other's fire barely and struggling to get a clear shot. Ten minutes,twelve.  
  
Then McQueen's leg malfunctioned, snapping his leg up into his arm. The resulting movement of the simulation brought him into Hawkes' line of fire.  
  
Over her headset, Silver heard McQueen swearing. She waved West back from the simulator. "Let him be for a minute."  
  
Hawkes snapped his canopy up. "What happened? He suddenly jerked over in front of me."  
  
"That... leg of his."  
  
"It wasn't a fair contest. We can fly it again."  
  
Silver shook her head. "No. You fly against me now."  
  
A moment later, McQueen popped his canopy and got out, silent, his face stony. He took the headset Silver handed him without a word.  
  
Silver looked over at Hawkes. "Are you ready?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Very well then." Getting into the simulator, Silver took a deep breath. She had to make a point with this exercise.  
  
Two minutes after engaging Hawkes, Silver killed him.  
  
"Again!" he snarled.  
  
He lasted two and a half minutes.  
  
"Again!"  
  
Silver obliged him, this time deliberately not killing him immediately. She strafed him and, as she sped past him, turned her craft so that the nose continued to face him as she engaged her reverse thrusters and climbed backwards up out of his line of fire, still firing, forcing him to take evasive action. Then as he angled up to try and fire on her, Silver rolled over, engaged her forward engines and dove down on him, firing. As she went past him again, she repeated the maneuver, this time going for the kill.  
  
Hawkes slammed open his canopy, raging. "You were toying with me!"  
  
Calmly, Silver faced down Hawkes, waiting. When he lunged at her, she merely sidestepped. "Forgetting your training, lieutenant?"  
  
West grabbed Hawkes, wrapping his arms around the larger Marine. "Cool it, Coop. Get it under control. She beat you fair and square."  
  
When Hawkes glanced over at McQueen, he saw the colonel nod slightly.  
  
"She did it fairly, Hawkes." McQueen crossed his arms.  
  
"I want to see you do it for real. Not in a simulation."  
  
"It would help if you started considering the simulations more than a game, but all right." Silver stepped over to the intercom. "Hanger Bay 2."  
  
"2 here. Warrant Officer Randall speaking." The man sounded irritated.  
  
"Colonel Silver, Randall."  
  
"Yes, colonel. How may I help you?" The man's voice became eager to please.  
  
"I need two Hammerheads outfitted with training ammo. Mine and Lt. Hawkes'."  
  
"They'll be ready in five mikes."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Welcome, colonel."  
  
Switching the intercom off, Silver looked at Hawkes. "What are you waiting for? Go get suited up."  
  
As Hawkes trotted off, Silver reactivated the intercom. "Command Bridge."  
  
"Command Bridge here."  
  
"Colonel Silver, here. Two Hammerheads from the 58th will be doing some training maneuvers outside."  
  
"Acknowledged. Just don't shoot the tender, please."  
  
"Will do."  
  
"Command Bridge out."  
  
With that, Silver headed for her quarters to get suited up. "Observation deck should have a good view," she tossed over her shoulder.  
  
In her Hammerhead, Silver took several deep breaths, preparing for a real fight. Hawkes would be a challenge, if he took the duel seriously and did not lose his temper again.  
  
Hawkes had calmed down, she could tell from his flying. Temper under control, he dogged her relentlessly and she kept her maneuvers simple at first. Then she started becoming more elusive and dangerous.  
  
Her first kill on him was just like the final one in the simulator.  
  
His snapped, "Again!" made her grin. "Very well. Engage."  
  
This time she brought her Hammerhead down at him from the rear. At full throttle, she shot past him, hit her reverse thrusters and snapped her ship around a hundred and eighty degrees so she once more faced him. Firing, Silver activated an imaginary computer generated missile and waited to launch. At point blank range, she launched the missile and dove at a ninety- degree angle from Hawkes, full throttle. The computers agreed that Hawkes had died spectacularly.  
  
"Again!"  
  
"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more."  
  
Silver allowed him to get on her tail, but instead of dodging sideways, up or down, she corkscrewed over his head, coming down on his rear. He died.  
  
"Again!"  
  
"No. I think I've made my point."  
  
****  
  
On the observation deck, McQueen pressed his hand against the view port. "Where was she when Chiggy Van Richthofen was killing us?" he whispered hoarsely.  
  
"Coughing up her guts," answered Russell. "Friendly fire on a mission."  
  
McQueen stared at the calm man. "Friendly fire?"  
  
"The other squadrons didn't like us. Couldn't report it, of course."  
  
"She was furious that she couldn't fly. But when she heard you had taken him out, she calmed down." Finch looked at McQueen. "She said, he's the only other one who could have done it.'"  
  
"You forgot what else she said, after surgery." Leaning against the wall, St. John recited, "And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding- which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit."  
  
McQueen nodded. "Let's get down to the flight deck."  
  
Hawkes had calmed down by the time his cockpit reached the docking bay. He waited by his Hammerhead cockpit. "Colonel, I'm sorry I lost my temper."  
  
"I'll accept it this time. I hope you learned something from all of that." She saw the others approaching.  
  
"Yes, ma'am. I'm going to start practicing those maneuvers immediately."  
  
"Good. All right, everyone. That's enough for today. Study what you've learned. Practice it. I'll see you at 1800 for the run."  
  
McQueen walked beside her. "What's next on the agenda?"  
  
"Reports, lunch, some light reading, more reports, dinner, reading, the run."  
  
"Um, nothing else?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Don't push, McQueen. You hardly know me."  
  
"I want to get to know you."  
  
"You will. Feel free to join me in report generating and reading of."  
  
"What fun. I think bureaucrats enjoy coming up with new ways to create paperwork."  
  
"I believe you're right."  
  
****  
  
Six days later, Silver tested them out on the simulators again, this time against Chigs fighters. They used her maneuvers.  
  
"Good. All right. That's all. Lunch will be served in half an hour. Warning, tonight's run will be a bit different. A ruck run. Which you might remember means, full combat gear and packs, including rifles."  
  
"What!" They all stiffened.  
  
"You heard me. Consider it practice for tomorrow. We're ALL going planet side for some down and dirty training. Dismissed."  
  
Alone with Silver, McQueen asked, "How did you manage it?"  
  
"Since the Toga had to come to this system for repairs and there just happened to be a habitable planet under our control, I asked the commodore if I could conduct a training mission. He agreed."  
  
"And why am I going?"  
  
"You have a lot to teach these youngsters, McQueen. Don't sell yourself short. You are a part of the 58th. Don't forget that." She headed for the door. "Now, I need to coordinate with the flight crew for the use of an ISSCV tomorrow. I'll let you know when we leave at the run tonight."  
  
****  
  
The run went well, Silver thought. The entire squad stayed together, despite the extra encumbrance. Back at the gym, she worked them hard, pleased to see that no one was exhausted after three hours of intense workout.  
  
Before they hit the showers, she announced, "Not bad at all, folks. Tomorrow, be at Landing Bay 2 at 0900. Same kits as tonight. McQueen and I will fly us down. Special training ammo will be issued planet side. Dismissed."  
  
****  
  
On the flight down, McQueen noticed that Silver appeared preoccupied. He asked her a question concerning the training ammo at one point and the look in her eyes reminded him of a hunting cat.  
  
"What was the question?" Her mind clearly was not on him.  
  
"Never mind."  
  
She looked at the flight controls and nodded absently.  
  
Planet side, they disembarked onto a rocky plain. No trees, but there were bushes and grass of sorts. A quarter mile away, a single hill rose up to five hundred feet.  
  
"All right, listen up. This is the training ammo. It'll spray a special paint to designate a hit. If you're hit, lie down and shut up until the exercise is over." Silver handed everyone three clips. "No one should need more than three clips. If you do, then you are wasting ammo and need to spend more time on the firing range."  
  
"Three clips is more than enough," McQueen stated.  
  
"Here's the drill. We're splitting into two teams. Finch, Russell and St. John are with me, the rest of you with McQueen. Your objective, colonel, is to get to the top of the hill and capture the flag, on foot." When McQueen looked at her, Silver said, "I had a team who used their initiative all right. They took the ISSCV. But that was not the object of the mission."  
  
McQueen chuckled. "Sounds like a good group."  
  
"We are." Russell grinned.  
  
Silver punched Russell's arm. "Be quiet. Now, my objective is simple, to keep you from getting the flag. We'll be on a different frequency so don't worry about us listening in. I expect the same courtesy from you. You will advance in fifteen mikes." She brought her timepiece up and the others did the same. "Time will be 1025, ready, ready, hack."  
  
McQueen kept his eyes on the rapidly moving people. He blinked and they were gone. How the hell did they disappear so fast?' he wondered.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, McQueen signaled and they headed out.  
  
The first of his team to go down was Vansen. She was advancing, crouched down.  
  
"West, advance to-" Suddenly Vansen's head rocked back and something sprayed her face. "What the hell?" She started to wipe her face clean. "Damn. They shot me."  
  
Glancing over, McQueen saw her splattered with red paint. "You're dead, Vansen. Lie down and shut up so you don't distract us."  
  
"Yes, sir," Vansen replied sullenly.  
  
West died next, two hundred yards from the base of the hill. Weaving in a crouch to the next piece of cover, the shot came in just under his throat, sending red paint spraying all over his chest. "I'm hit!" He lay down and stayed quiet.  
  
At the base of the hill, Phousse took her hit. The shot came from behind and hit her square between the shoulder blades. "I'm down!"  
  
Hawkes was halfway up the hill when two shots caught him in the chest. "Shit! They got me!"  
  
On his own, McQueen crawled up the hill. He waited below the lip of the hill, looking for the enemy.' Seeing no one, he rose to a crouch and started to advance. Ten feet from the flag, three people rose before him even as he felt a blow between his shoulders. As he staggered under the shot, two more slammed into his chest and another hit his helmet. He sank to his knees. "I am definitely dead."  
  
"Down the hill, everyone."  
  
Silver extended a hand to McQueen with a chuckle. "Going to a barbecue?"  
  
"You play rough," he quipped.  
  
"The better to keep you alive."  
  
At the base of the hill, Silver tossed a bottle to each of the dead. "Spray it over the paint. It will turn into dust. No stains to worry about."  
  
As the dead became living again, she continued. "You did rather well. A lot better than other teams we've gone up against. Now, turn abouts fair play. You defend and we attack. We'll go back to the ISSCV and will start our assault in twenty mikes. Time will be 1115, ready, ready, hack."  
  
McQueen opted to stay on the hilltop with his people deployed on the sides. Twenty minutes later, he heard Phousse say,  
  
"I got one. Damn, they got me."  
  
McQueen grimaced. A one for one exchange, not good.  
  
Hawkes took out the next one and managed to avoid the spate of bullets. "HOO-YAAH!"  
  
McQueen waited, crouched a few feet from the bottom of a rock outcropping. He kept constantly looking from side to side.  
  
A hand clamped over his mouth and another gripped the back of his head. With a jerk upright, his attacker pulled him back and twisted his head to the side swiftly. Even as his body responded, McQueen knew that if it had been for real, he would have died. He forced himself to relax, to not fight back. Getting his feet under him, McQueen tapped the hand over his mouth once and was released.  
  
Before he could speak, Silver covered his helmet mike.  
  
McQueen deactivated the mike, leaving the headphones on.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"Yes. You didn't hurt me, Silver."  
  
"Good. Play dead. Really play dead."  
  
"You want to see how they respond."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"All right." McQueen watched her take the flag and slip away behind the rock outcropping.  
  
With a soft sigh, McQueen leaned back against the rocks staying in the shade, letting his rifle drop from his hand. He wondered how to appear dead. Well, she had supposedly broken his neck. Turning his head, McQueen rested his chin on his right shoulder, allowing his head to fall back against the rock. Not too uncomfortable. He had stayed in worse positions for hours.  
  
Ten minutes later, McQueen heard Vansen trying to raise him over the helmet intercom. "Colonel? Sir? Can you hear me? Report, Colonel!"  
  
"I'm near the top of the hill. I'll go see if everything is all right," volunteered West.  
  
McQueen closed his eyes until he could hear West about to reach to the hill's crest. He opened his eyes and allowed his jaw to sag slightly.  
  
West's head appeared before him, barely topping the grass.  
  
"Colonel!" hissed West. When McQueen did not respond, West reported, "Colonel's down. Shit! The flag's gone!" West started to crawl forward. "Colonel? Can you hear me? Shane, he's not responding!"  
  
McQueen could see and hear West's panic.  
  
"Check him out." Vansen's voice shook.  
  
To himself, McQueen thought, They're scared to lose me.' The idea made a warm spot in his gut.  
  
West gathered his feet under him and started to approach in a deep crouch. "Vansen, his head's at a funny angle. I think he's really hurt."  
  
"Keep down, West!" snarled Hawkes. "It could be a trap."  
  
"But he's on our side."  
  
"He's dead! Stay down!"  
  
West hesitated a second too long. Two shots hit him rapidly, spreading red across both sides of his chest. "Gak!" West managed as the impacts bowled him over, knocking the wind out of him.  
  
Once West was down, rolling onto his side so that he could keep his face out of the sun, McQueen turned his head and smiled at the sheepish look on the young man's face. Covering his mike, West whispered, "You're ok?"  
  
McQueen nodded once.  
  
West sighed deeply and relaxed.  
  
Down the hill, Hawkes was being stalked. The first he knew it was when Russell tackled him, wrapping an arm around the larger Marine's right arm and chest. He grabbed Hawkes' jaw and forced his head around to the side far enough that Hawkes felt the muscles protest.  
  
Even as Russell smiled and whispered in Hawkes' ear, "You're dead," he felt the shot hit him in the back. "And so am I," he laughed, rolling off Hawkes.  
  
Vansen, now the lone defender, circled the hill warily. After a circuit, she started moving upward, still circling.  
  
Again acting dead, McQueen had a perfect view as Vansen crested the hill in a low crouch. She paused when she saw both himself and West. Smoothly, silently, Silver rose behind Vansen, K-bar in hand. Vansen never had a chance. She was jerked up and back by the hand over her mouth, the K-bar tip under her jaw, poised for the strike into her brain.  
  
"I'm afraid you're dead, captain." Silver released Vansen. Keying the mike to broadcast over both frequencies, Silver announced, "Exercise over. Everyone back to the transport for lunch. Five mikes."  
  
"How did you do that?" asked West, having seen Silver take out Vansen.  
  
"Lots of training, under fire." Silver gave West a hand up before Vansen could. She walked over to McQueen. "Doing all right?"  
  
"Yes." He accepted her hand up. "I've never seen anyone move like you do. Are the others that good?"  
  
"Not quite. After all, they died."  
  
"What was the point of that stunt?" demanded Vansen.  
  
"I wanted to see how you responded in a combat situation before I take you into one." Silver started down the hill.  
  
"No, I meant with the colonel."  
  
"Same thing."  
  
"You mean-" Vansen shot a quick look over at McQueen. "If he's- Shit!" Vansen ran down the hill.  
  
Feeling like he had missed something, McQueen gave Silver an inquiring look.  
  
She did not enlighten him and neither did West, who jogged ahead without looking at McQueen.  
  
"What am I missing here?"  
  
"Nothing. Just something I discussed with them the first night. Come on. The base here has real food."  
  
That made McQueen's mouth water and he picked up the pace.  
  
****  
  
Over lunch, Silver said, "You did very good, folks. Better than ten other squadrons against me and these three. Of those ten, only four took out two of mine. Two squads got one and the rest failed miserably."  
  
"Really?" asked Hawkes, around a mouthful of real mashed potatoes and gravy.  
  
"Really. Now, shut your mouth while eating. It's rude to talk with a full mouth."  
  
"Sorry," mumbled Hawkes.  
  
Finch laughed as did West and Phousse, causing Hawkes to blush beet red.  
  
"Enough. Leave him alone. Eat." McQueen pointedly dug into his own mashed potatoes.  
  
****  
  
That afternoon, Silver started them practicing their grunt work. Crawling through scrub, dirt and water, determined to keep as little of their bodies exposed to enemy fire as possible. McQueen matched Silver on kills' and managed to get the drop on her once, repaying her for the morning death.' Later came the 'hide and kill' tests. His leg not malfunctioning once, McQueen proved himself still fully capable of being a deadly, killing Marine.  
  
The squadron was exhausted by1730 when Silver called a halt to the fun and games. She forced them to double time it back the transport after telling them it would allow time for a shower before dinner.  
  
"Are we flying back to the Toga?" asked McQueen quietly as the squad disembarked.  
  
"No. I've arranged for guest barracks down here. We'll go back in the morning."  
  
"Good. I don't think I'm in any shape to fly."  
  
"By the time we leave for the mission in four days, they'll be ready."  
  
"I hope so. Bring them back to me, Silver."  
  
"I will." 


	4. Blood and Souls, Chapter Four

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17 (slash - in later chapters, can be skipped, warning will be issued with the chapter), violence, and lots of graphic sex in later chapters.  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Warning: This chapter contains violence and rape to a major character.  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter 4  
  
McQueen watched the 58th leave the Saratoga with a heavy heart. He desperately wanted to be with them. A feeling in his gut warned him something would go wrong if he wasn't with them. No way was he leaving the Saratoga's bridge until he had received the landing signal.  
  
****  
  
Thirty hours later, the insertion went perfectly and Silver worried. She hoped the majority of the Chigs had been pulled away to the conflict the 6th Fleet was initiating, but no Chig air patrols bothered her. With a silent curse, Silver told herself to concentrate on the mission at hand. The planet's dawn was only an hour in the past.  
  
She tapped West on the shoulder. "Cue."  
  
It took West a second to remember that meant to signal the Saratoga they were down and safe for the moment. He nodded and activated the radio long enough to say, "Where the deer and the antelope play."  
  
Stepping outside the transport, Silver spotted the two Hammerheads parked nearby. Both Vansen and Hawkes were busy camouflaging their ships. She started pulling the camouflage tarp over the ISSCV.  
  
Ten minutes later, satisfied with the job, Silver gathered the 58th together. As they shrugged into their packs, she said, "All right. Just as I laid it down. No one shoots unless fired upon. Got it?"  
  
Everyone nodded.  
  
"Hawkes, Russell, take point. Finch, tail end Charlie. Let's move it."  
  
*********  
  
"Where the deer and the antelope play."  
  
McQueen heaved a sigh and felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"They'll be fine and back before you know it." Ross spoke softly.  
  
"Yes, sir," McQueen said bleakly. He was shaken slightly. "Sorry. I have a bad feeling, that something's going to go wrong."  
  
"Get some sleep, McQueen."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
****  
  
McQueen found it hard to concentrate on the various mission reports he had wanted to go over. His eyes kept closing of their own volition. Wryly, he noted to himself he really ought to just go to bed even if it was only 1500 hours. He tried to rise and discovered his body wouldn't move. His arms fell to his sides heavily.  
  
'Damn, I've been drugged!' McQueen thought to himself, struggling to stay conscious.  
  
When the hatch opened ten minutes later, McQueen lay sprawled in his chair, unconscious.  
  
****  
  
Jerking awake as an ammonia tablet was cracked under his nose, McQueen knew he was in trouble. He lay naked on the deck; his hands were bound tightly as were his elbows, pulling his shoulders painfully back. A slight movement of his feet informed him that some sort of binding secured his ankles. Even in the semi-lit conditions, he could make out ten individuals surrounding him. Two approached him and lifted him up onto his feet. He used the opportunity to discover he had about two and a half feet of reach with his feet, unfortunately not enough to seriously injure any one. He was left standing in the center of a circle of ill wishers.  
  
A fist slammed into his lower back and McQueen gasped, but remained on his feet. The blows started in earnest. When knocked off his feet, sheer stubbornness and pride forced him to regain his feet. He refused to speak, to give them the satisfaction of hearing him plead for his life.  
  
It became harder and harder for him to stand, taking longer each time. The deck beneath him was awash with his blood and vomit. And still he knew it wasn't enough for these men.  
  
Then two of his assailants pinned his legs and started stomping on the artificial leg. Several times they landed on his knee and he choked on the screams the pain caused. When the false leg lay in several pieces, they released McQueen as if daring him to stand now. He struggled to his knees and waited.  
  
The point came when McQueen could not longer gather the strength to get to his knees. Then came the part McQueen had prayed he would be unconscious for. He was propped up into position and held in place by two of the men. The first one used a slight amount of lubricant. McQueen closed his eyes, determined to swallow his screams for as long as possible. He hated to give his torturers any satisfaction.  
  
The screams finally tore their way from McQueen and someone stuffed a rag in his mouth, tying a towel around his head to keep it in place, further muffling the sound. McQueen damned his own stubborn nature that refused to let him sink into oblivion.  
  
****  
  
A large river blocked the 58ths path, causing them to lose almost an hour just trying to find a way across. It took them another two hours of hiking through dense undergrowth and light forest to reach their objective, a hillside overlooking the POW compound. Settling down on the ground with a boulder to shield her, Silver used her binocs to survey the scene. Others did the same.  
  
"Ah, hell, AIs," groaned Vansen.  
  
"Told you there was a possibility." Silver spotted four AIs patrolling the far side and two on the near side. She could see some ten human bodies in various uniforms stretched out on cots just outside the doorway leading into the complex. Navy, Marine and Army uniforms were identifiable, despite the bad condition of most of the uniforms. A twelve-foot tall wire fence surrounded the side of the complex with only one gate in the middle.  
  
A form stepped outside and immediately leaned over the nearest cot. Silver concentrated on the bent form. When it straightened, she gasped, recognizing the black hair, square jaw, rugged good looks. "An Adam! Thank God!"  
  
"It's an AI! What's it doing to the POWs?" Vansen edged forward.  
  
"Can it, Captain! The Adams are doctors," explained St. John.  
  
"All the better to torture helpless humans," accused Vansen.  
  
"Watch your mouth, Vansen." Silver's tone was sharp. "I haven't met an Adam yet that had accepted the damn Stranahan virus voluntarily. They are dedicated doctors. And the only Adam I know who was forced to accept the virus in order to save his human patients went mad between the conflict of the virus and his Hippocratic oath. That Adam down there is probably the only reason these POWs are still alive."  
  
"How sure of this are you?" demanded Vansen.  
  
"Enough to bet my life." Silver glanced around and settled her gaze on Hawkes. "I need a sharpshooter. Coming?"  
  
Hawkes bit his lip, then nodded, not looking at Vansen.  
  
As Hawkes followed Silver, he kept a careful lookout. He admitted to himself she was good at her job as he carefully stepped in her footsteps and forced himself to stay low.  
  
Just as he spotted an AI patrol, she waved him down. It seemed like forever before the patrol had gone far enough that Silver thought it safe to continue.  
  
****  
  
"Damned AIs!" Vansen hunched her shoulders.  
  
"Hey, Captain. Don't badmouth the Adam models."  
  
Vansen stared at Finch. "Why the hell not?"  
  
"You remember what we told you about Dicte?"  
  
"Yeah. So?"  
  
"While we were busy trying to find all the wounded, we ran across two guys trying to save our guys, human and tank." Finch settled back against the hillside. "They were Adams, one a M, that's like the one down there, and the other a J. Those are blond with different features. Neither of them had taken the virus. They had found our dead medics and were working to keep four men from bleeding to death. Turns out that the Adams had been dragged around by the other AIs because they could be used to keep any human prisoners alive."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Hey, just like you don't judge all humans or tanks the same, do the same for the AIs. There are several models out there that won't take the virus."  
  
Vansen shrugged.  
  
"All right. Just listen. We took the Adams back with us. Silver created cover stories for them. But the medical staff didn't care who they were. They needed capable medical personnel. We took one or the other Adam with us on missions. It kept our survival rate up. The M we called Adam and the J, well, Jay. Then about six months later, we had a run of really bad luck. Silver, Russell, two others, along with Jay, and me were caught by AIs. Black and Stone, they were badly wounded. We were all thrown in a cell together, but they left Jay with no medical supplies at all. He was doing his damnest to stop their internal bleeding, but everyone knew it was a lost cause without supplies. Then the Elroy and Felicity came in, with Jay's pack. They told him that they would give him the pack if he took the virus." Finch's eyes closed. "They put the supplies out on a table by the door. Jay stood there staring at the blood covering his hands for about five minutes. Then he looked up at Silver and said, I have to try.' She nodded and he went to the Elroy and took the virus module. These shudders went through Jay, his eyes closed, and he started jerking his arms. Then he went real still. All of a sudden, Jay dropped to his knees and threw back his head and screamed. There was so much anguish in his voice and it went on and on. Forever it seemed like." Her voice trailed away. Tears ran down her cheeks.  
  
Russell took Finch in his arms. "Then he lurched to his feet and opened his eyes. Don't tell me how, but we could see the madness in them. He grabbed a scalpel and rushed the two AIs. He disabled the Elroy's modem in one slash and the Felicity's in another. But he couldn't stop at that. With his bare hands, he ripped them into pieces. Then he stood there, covered in oil and hydraulic fluid, staring down at them. He picked up the scalpel and looked at Silver. I don't dare touch them Silver. I can't help them now. The virus and my oath are ripping me apart. Tell Adam the virus makes us mad. He'll understand.' Before we knew what he was going to do, Jay plunged the scalpel into his modem. Then he took out his memory cores, one by one. Then he decapitated himself.  
  
"So don't you dare judge an Adam."  
  
"What happened to the other Adam?" asked ''Phousse.  
  
"He stayed behind with wounded on a mission a year ago. Our CO, Major Dupre, took a Chig bolt to the back and head. He ordered Silver to bug out. Adam wouldn't leave him alone. We haven't heard hide nor hair of them since."  
  
''Phousse sighed. "Must be hard."  
  
"We lost two members of the 110th that day."  
  
****  
  
The path Silver took zigzagged down the hillside as she avoided traps and mines. She slithered on her belly the last twenty feet.  
  
By this time, the Adam model was at his closest point inside the wire fence.  
  
"Adam," whispered Silver before Hawkes knew what was happening.  
  
Slowly, as if the AI were merely looking out at the scenery, he raised his head. The cross-haired eyes spotted the two humans even as voices came from the doorway. The Adam quickly looked down at his patient.  
  
An Elroy-L model accompanied a Morgana-B model in strolling up behind Adam. "Well, well. Looks like doctor boy is still keeping the entertainment alive for us."  
  
"Maybe we should reward it with the virus?" purred the Morgana, running long fingers down the Adam's arm. Long brunette hair slid down her bare arms.  
  
The Adam rose and faced the two. "And maybe you should back off. You've killed five of my patients already. The Chigs specified that the prisoners were to be kept alive. Your interrogation techniques are obviously rusty."  
  
"Maybe it's your doctor routines," snapped the Elroy.  
  
"I can't keep them alive when there is so little to work with."  
  
"Don't worry about them. The Chigs will have other things to worry about soon enough. Then you won't have any patients," announced the Morgana.  
  
"Go fry yourselves," and the Adam pointedly turned away, returning his attention to the patient.  
  
"Ah, and how is this patient? I have a special interest in him." The Elroy leaned over the Adam's shoulder. "How are you, Wang-boy?"  
  
The only thing that kept Hawkes on the ground was Silver's hand on his neck, pinching.  
  
"Jump in a lake," came a weak voice.  
  
"So feisty still. Well, we'll see about that soon enough. I'm looking forward to renewing our acquaintance, Wang."  
  
"Oh, joyful day," deadpanned the weak voice.  
  
"Come on, Elroy. Let's go share our power packs."  
  
Smirking, the Elroy turned to follow the Morgana.  
  
Hawkes gathered himself to charge forward and received another pinch. Forcing himself to lie back down, Hawkes glanced at Silver. She was staring hard at the Adam, whose hands were shaping signs. Unbidden into his memory, Hawkes knew the language. It had been developed for deaf people before such injuries could be repaired. Then it had fallen into disuse, only to be resurrected as a military code.  
  
"-Eight on patrol, six inside. Fifteen Chigs inside. Twenty-eight POWs. Hi Ho Silver." The Adam smiled.  
  
Silver quickly signed back.  
  
****  
  
The Adam looked down at his patient as the two Marines started back up the hill. In a whisper, he said, "The 5-8 are here for you, Paul."  
  
"About time," Paul Wang whispered.  
  
****  
  
Hawkes wanted to protest when Silver indicated that they return to the rest of the squadron, but he finally started moving. The trip back seemed to take ten times as long, but they finally reached the others.  
  
Silver hunched down in the middle, speaking in a low voice. "Here's the situation-"  
  
"Wang's alive!" Hawkes burst out with.  
  
Closing her eyes for a second and shaking her head, Silver cocked her fist and slammed it into the side of Hawkes' head. The blow bowled him over and he scrambled to his feet, ready to fight.  
  
"Don't you ever interrupt me again, lieutenant." Cold and hard, her voice little more than a whisper, "You obviously didn't get all of Adam's message, so shut the hell up." Looking back at the rest of the 58th, Silver said, still in a low voice, "Yes, Wang is there. Don't start celebrating yet."  
  
"What's wrong?" demanded 'Phousse.  
  
"Out of twenty-eight POWs, only seven can even walk. Wang is not among that number. He is in the large majority of badly injured. It has taken all of Adam's skill to keep Wang and the other twelve alive this long. He has run out of supplies, including painkillers."  
  
"Let's go." West stood up, ready to attack.  
  
"And we lose them all." Having their attention again, Silver started drawing on the ground. "Adam said that the POWs are kept in three rooms near this door. But there are always four AIs and six Chigs in the two rooms immediately on the other side of the door. The Chigs are afraid our wounded will just up and walk out. On both sides of the compound, there are four AIs in teams of two patrolling. Two AIs are in the radio room, five rooms in on the left from this door. The other nine Chigs are bunked down across from the radio room. Their weapons are with them. They will respond immediately to any threat. The radio AIs will immediately call for back up at the first sign of trouble. There's a Chig air base fifteen mikes flight away."  
  
"So we have fifteen mikes to secure and get away with twenty-eight badly injured POWs?" West laughed hysterically. "No fucking way."  
  
"Twenty."  
  
"What about the other eight?" asked 'Phousse.  
  
"Adam says they're basically dead already. Most of them have slipped into a coma-state. They'll be dead by nightfall, if not before."  
  
"So, let's get them out of there."  
  
"No, Hawkes. We have to wait three and a half hours. Adam will be taking these POWs back inside. He will secure the three rooms so that the other AIs and Chigs can not get in."  
  
"So how are we getting in?"  
  
Silver looked Vansen in the eyes. "You and West are going to fly the Hammerheads and strafe the air base. Lure as many of them out as you can and destroy them. Take out the base. Especially the communications tower. The rest of us will take out the guards here fifteen mikes after you hit the base. Then fly back and get the ISSCV. We fly out of here."  
  
"It's suicide." West glowered.  
  
"It's the only way. Otherwise we might as well leave now. There won't be a live POW left for us to rescue." Silver saw that Finch, St. John, and Russell were studying the crude drawing. "Yes?"  
  
"The POWs will be situated where exactly?" Russell drew in four rough rooms, two on each side of a central corridor.  
  
"The eight Adam thinks have the least chance of survival are here on the left, with an empty room between them and the guardroom."  
  
Russell nodded. "And the radio room is two doors further on the left. All right, I'll take the left. St. John?"  
  
"Right. Finch?"  
  
"Right." Finch looked at Hawkes.  
  
After a moment, Hawkes said, "Left."  
  
Finch smiled. "Good. Russell always needs a dependable backup."  
  
Russell chuckled.  
  
"Hawkes!"  
  
Hawkes looked at Vansen. "She's CO. If she says it's the only way to get Paul back, then I'm doing it, with or without you. 'Phousse, are you coming?"  
  
After a pause, 'Phousse sighed. "Yes. I'll take right."  
  
"That leaves left for me." Silver nodded. "Are you in or out, captains?"  
  
"Any idea how many Chig fighters are at the base, ma'am?" asked West, scuffing his boot.  
  
"Adam didn't know. He thinks at least ten."  
  
"Great. I love five to one odds." West looked down at Vansen. "I can't do it alone."  
  
"All right, but I still think it's a suicide mission."  
  
"Let's synchronize, Three hours and forty-five mikes from now. Ready, ready, hack. Good luck on the trip back."  
  
Once West and Vansen had started off, Silver asked for volunteers for guard duty. Russell and Hawkes both nodded. Silver settled down for a two-hour nap.  
  
****  
  
An hour to the dead line, Silver led the squadron on the slow descent down the hill. Successfully avoiding the two patrols, the squad was in place with fifteen minutes to wait.  
  
****  
  
Out of the sun screamed the two Hammerheads, rail guns blazing away.  
  
"I've got the tower," announced Vansen.  
  
"I've got the runway." Chig fighters exploded under West's shooting. "Pay back for Deimos."  
  
****  
  
With care, Hawkes cut the fence near the wall. A hole just big enough for him to get through would allow the others easy access. In a painful crouch, he advanced and waited on the right side of the door. St. John crouched opposite him. When Hawkes reached up and pulled a smart grenade down, St. John smiled and copied him. The others ranged behind them.  
  
Counting the seconds, they both stood and kicked the door in. Smoothly, they yanked the pins on their grenades and tossed the grenades into the rooms opposite them before ducking back against the wall.  
  
Hawkes felt the wall behind his back reverberate with the concussion. He held up a hand, fingers spread. One by one, he lowered them. None left, he and St. John crossed paths and entered the rooms they each had bombed, ready to shoot anything that moved. Nothing did.  
  
Next Russell and Finch entered the corridor, working their way back to the radio room. Silver and 'Phousse stepped inside the corridor, keeping their eyes toward the outside, waiting for the patrols to react. Even as Hawkes and St. John moved up the corridor to support Russell and Finch, Silver and 'Phousse were engaged in a firefight with the AIs.  
  
Russell tossed two grenades into the radio room and ducked back. Pieces of AIs flew out the open doorway.  
  
Not to be outdone, Finch pulled the pins on three grenades and tossed them into the Chigs' barracks one after another. Crouching, she shut the door on a Chig charging her.  
  
The blasts shook the door. Hawkes crouched beside her, M-590 ready. Behind him stood Russell while St. John stood behind Finch. After a five count, Finch opened the door. They saturated the room with bullets.  
  
Shots hit the ground near Russell and Hawkes, coming through the door leading outside near them. With a curse, they fell back, firing.  
  
****  
  
"West, where are you? I've got two on my tail and I can't shake them!"  
  
"Juke! Juke!" screamed West.  
  
Obeying, Vansen wrenched her Hammerhead to the side. Debris from one of the Chig fighters peppered her ship. Lights started flashing. "Damn! Where's the other one?"  
  
"Immelmann! You can take him."  
  
As she pulled her craft into a steep climb, Vansen spotted West, chasing another Chig with two on his tail. "Juke! Juke!"  
  
West's craft rolled to the side and the rearmost Chig's fire speared the fighter West had been chasing.  
  
Swapping her Hammerhead end for end, Vansen dived back down on the fighter chasing her, cursing as she spotted another four Chig fighters headed into the furball.  
  
****  
  
The AIs dead on her side, Silver dragged herself back upright, hissing in pain. She managed a smile for 'Phousse. "Getting too old for this."  
  
"Huh, I bet. You'll never be too old."  
  
"Go see how the others are doing."  
  
"Should be over with four of them shooting."  
  
"Yeah, but that's twice as many targets on our side."  
  
"Coop'll just stand there, daring them to hit him, too." 'Phousse grinned. "Be back."  
  
Silver walked to the nearest door and leaned against it. "Adam. Hi Ho Silver."  
  
The rich tenor voice responded, "Tonto no go to town."  
  
Laughing, Silver managed, "I think it's over. Open up."  
  
The door opened and the Adam stood before her. "It's about time you showed up, Lone Ranger."  
  
"I was detained, Tonto."  
  
"For a year?"  
  
"Unfortunately. Is he still alive?"  
  
Adam nodded. "But, Silver, he's one of the eight."  
  
Silver closed her eyes briefly and nodded. "Got it. Where is he?"  
  
Adam led her across the hall and unlocked the door. He entered first, intent on checking each patient. Right behind him, Silver stopped at the first cot. She crouched down. "Dupre."  
  
"God, Silver, I thought I heard you out there." A weak voice belied the bright grey eyes buried in a scarred face. He managed to lift a hand to her face. "You finally came."  
  
"It took a direct order from McIntyre to keep me from coming for you sooner."  
  
"It's all right. They had everything useful from me by the end of the first week. It was just spite that caused them to continue working me over for the last year. I refused to die on them. Thanks to Adam."  
  
Silver brushed the dark blond hair back from Dupre's face. "The 110th is gone, Dupre."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Chig fighter took out the landing bay. There are only four of us left."  
  
"Let me guess. Finch, Russell and St. John." At her sad smile, the man stroked his thumb across her cheek. "I ordered you to leave me behind, Silver. You had to get the others out."  
  
"I know."  
  
"So who are you now?"  
  
"The 58th."  
  
"Ah, the Wildcards. They'll be happy to see their mate again, I guess."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"They're a good bunch. I talked with Wang a lot. Keep them alive, Silver. We'll need them in the future."  
  
"Do my best."  
  
"Did the colonists make it? Wang couldn't say."  
  
"Yes, the 58th pulled it off."  
  
"Good. It was a weight off our minds when we heard the colonists had been released. War is no place for civilians." With his other hand, Dupre reached under his tattered flight suit and pulled out his dog tags. He pulled them over his head and pressed them into her hand. "Take me home, Silver."  
  
"Dupre-"  
  
"I'm already dead, Silver. The others died while you were out there in the hall. It was only the fact I thought I heard you that kept me alive this long. Take us home. Adam has the other dog tags. Burn our bodies and take us home."  
  
Silver nodded, wrapping the tags around her hand.  
  
"That's a good girl. Say good-bye for me."  
  
Holding tight to his hand pressed to her cheek, Silver closed her eyes as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She felt his lips on her other wrist.  
  
Hawkes found her there, holding the hand of a dead man, slowly rocking back and forth. "Ma'am?" The sight of her tear-streaked face shocked him. "Ma'am?"  
  
"Yes, Hawkes?" Silver struggled to speak calmly.  
  
"All secured."  
  
"Good. Find out if there are any incendiary explosives stored here. After you say hello to Lt. Wang."  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Spinning around, Hawkes bellowed, "Paul! Where are you, man?"  
  
"Hawkes, is that you? Mangy tank, get your ass in here."  
  
"Compliments, Wanger? Hey, maybe I better just go home."  
  
"Don't you dare!"  
  
A cool hand fell on Silver's shoulder. "He wasn't suffering any pain at the end, Silver. His spine was severed so that he couldn't feel anything below the arms."  
  
"Thanks, Adam."  
  
"I collected their tags." Adam held out seven more sets of dog tags. "I'll get the others as well before we leave."  
  
"I'm glad you stayed with him." She took the dog tags, shoving them into her pocket.  
  
"We all have our duty, Silver."  
  
"They never made a better AI than you, Adam."  
  
"How many transports do you have?"  
  
"One."  
  
"Most of them have to stay flat, Silver."  
  
"We'll deal with it, Adam. I'm not leaving any of them behind. First, though, our transport has to get here."  
  
"58th flyers?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"They'll be here."  
  
Silver smiled sadly. Shaking herself briefly, she forced her mind back to the job at hand. "St. John, Finch."  
  
"Yes, ma'am?"  
  
"Find anything we can use to secure people to their cots. We have to accommodate thirteen people flat on their backs on the ISSCV. I know, sighed Finch, we don't have that much room. I'll work on it."  
  
By the time the ISSCV landed half an hour later, Silver had an idea of what to do.  
  
Vansen jumped out of the ISSCV as West landed his Hammerhead next to the transport. "I lost my Hammerhead, ma'am," she informed Silver as the colonel approached. "Too much damage. Not space worthy. I managed to make it back to the ISSCV, though."  
  
"All right, you get to pilot the transport." As West approached, Silver said, "Now, why don't the two of you go see your friend?"  
  
Silver watched their eyes light up and stepped to the side to let them pass. "Finch, Russell, St. John. Let's get busy."  
  
Inside the transport, Silver shook her head. "Damn. It'll take us at least a couple of hours to make this work. Let's pray we have that much time. Finch, go get that lieutenant who can barely walk. Then activate the LIDAR and let him keep an eye on it while we work."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Silver's plan called for securing the cots to the walls and the deck of the transport. In places, though, she feared they would have to stack the cots one over the other. But they couldn't be more than two tall. Adam had to be able to get to his patients. And the cots had to be secure enough to withstand the ISSCV doing maneuvers while trying to evade Chig fighters.  
  
Three hours later, they were able to start loading the wounded men and women.  
  
****  
  
McQueen could not be sure he was conscious. Trying to open his eyes didn't bring him any light. But the pain when he moved told him he was conscious and nearly made him black out again. Slowly, McQueen turned his head from side to side. There, a bit of light. He pushed himself toward it with his foot, blocking out the agony the movement shot through his throbbing, battered and broken body. How long the journey took, he never knew, but as he got closer to the light, McQueen saw something else to aim for. An unsecured hacksaw on a table edge. Having a goal in sight enabled McQueen to focus, to shut down the agony for a short time longer.  
  
Using his foot, it took McQueen a despairingly long time to knock the hacksaw to the floor. Then with his mouth, he wedged it between some boxes under the table. Turning his back to the hacksaw, McQueen nearly blacked out again as he tried to move his arms, desperate to cut through the duct tape that held his elbows together. Blood flowed from new ragged cuts as he struggled to use the hacksaw. When his elbows finally fell free, McQueen screamed into his gag as his broken shoulder shifted. Darkness threatened, but he narrowed his world to only the task in hand.  
  
The hacksaw cut his hands and wrists as he sawed slowly free. Another scream tore his throat raw when the tape released his blood slick hands and they hit the deck beside him. Removing the gag took an enormous bite out of his pitiful remnant of strength and he had to rest before the next step. Sobbing with the effort, McQueen dragged himself upright onto his knees with his good arm holding onto the workstation. It took him a long moment to be able to see well enough to find the intercom. Another eternity crawled past as he struggled to key in Ross' number.  
  
"Ross, here."  
  
"Glen...." whispered McQueen hoarsely.  
  
"Ty? Where are you?"  
  
"Be...low....decks."  
  
"I'm on my way. Hold on, Ty."  
  
The strength drained away from McQueen and he collapsed with a scream, which cut off abruptly, as his head hit the floor.  
  
"McQueen!"  
  
When the commodore finally found McQueen nearly two hours later, he stopped in shock. The pale bloody body lay sprawled in a pool of blood. Only the slow rise and fall of the caved in rib cage told him he wasn't too late. "Medic!" bellowed Ross.  
  
The medic took one look and stated, "He's dead. No way he'll survive that."  
  
Ross grabbed the medic by the collar and lifted him up so he could snarl in his face. "You will keep him alive, you bastard, or I'll tear you inside out and feed your entrails to you. Then I'll have your hide as a throw rug. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"He dies and so do you." Ross threw the medic toward the broken, bleeding body of his best friend. "Get to work."  
  
****  
  
Two hours into the flight, Vansen snarled, "Chigs, two o'clock. Strap in back there. Hawkes, scrag them."  
  
"On it."  
  
Five minutes later, Hawkes reported, "Chigs destroyed. How is everyone?"  
  
"Alive. Thanks, Hawkes."  
  
"Nothing to it, Shane."  
  
Vansen listened through the open cockpit door as she heard Wang's voice.  
  
"Adam, sing the Old Northern Shore."  
  
As the rich tenor started to fill the transport, Vansen heard the weak voices take up the song.  
  
"I miss ancient rock and wild fjord Where my grandparents stood by the door And sometimes at night I regret the sad day, I sailed from the Old Northern shore  
  
Oh some us left out of hardship Starvation, misery and pain And some of us left for adventure To find greener pastures and gain But all of us left our loved ones behind Oh, our heartaches drill deep to the core And those heartaches are always awakened each night When we dream of the olde Northern shore  
  
Praise God for the health of our children Praise God for his kind loving grace Praise God for the food on our table When we die we shall see his kind face Praise God for this land of great freedom May there be no more bloodshed and war Praise God that before I pass from this life I'll lay eyes on the old Northern shore"  
  
"In this case, it'll be the Saratoga," laughed Wang. "Oh, god, it's good to be going home."  
  
****  
  
"Saratoga, this is Queen of Hearts. We have twenty injured POWs. Thirteen severely injured. Please have medical teams standing by."  
  
"Roger that, Queen of Hearts. Medics will be ready. Good to hear from you, 5-8."  
  
As the ISSCV was moved into the landing bay, Silver looked at the squadron. "Wang goes last. Adam, stay with him. McQueen will need to hear your report on his condition."  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Adam stood beside Wang's cot, monitoring his vitals.  
  
When Silver stepped out of the transport before the medics rushed in and followed by the rest of the 58th, she saw the commodore and frowned when she did not see McQueen. She strode over to Ross. "What's wrong, sir?" she asked in a low, urgent voice. She could see that Ross had not slept well.  
  
"Someone attacked McQueen. He's in Sickbay. They don't know if he'll make it." Ross looked at the rest of the squadron. "He's been unconscious since I found him. He managed to cut his way out of his bonds, but there's massive blood loss, broken bones, and internal injuries."  
  
"Hawkes, West, find McQueen and stand guard over him. Keep your rifles. No one except the 5-8, the commodore and Adam are allowed in." Silver spotted Adam coming out. She raised her voice. "Adam, Wang and McQueen are YOUR patients. No one else's."  
  
"I understand."  
  
"Vansen, get a private medical room big enough for two. Move McQueen and Wang into it. Get Adam everything he asks for. And I mean everything. Finch, serve as Adam's nurse. 'Phousse, you're with me. Russell, St. John, stay ready in Medical. Expedite things for the others, hm?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Silver stared at the 58th. "What are you standing around here for? Move it!" She turned back to the commodore. "Where did you find him?"  
  
"I'll take you there."  
  
Ross filled Silver in with what little he knew. "McQueen stayed on the bridge until you checked in. Eight hours later, I was awakened by a call. It was McQueen, sounding weak and barely conscious. He tried to tell me where he was, but he lost consciousness. They had bound his hands and elbows behind his back, tightly. He used a hacksaw to cut himself free."  
  
"Cutting himself in the process."  
  
"Yes. Colonel, he's in really bad shape."  
  
"Did they do what I imagine?"  
  
Sparing 'Phousse a sad look, Ross said, "Yes. They beat him, raped him and beat him again. I think they figured he would die."  
  
"If he weren't so stubborn, he would have."  
  
At the cleaned isolated workstation, Silver took a quick look around. She didn't expect to find anything, but she intended to return with at least one person in the near future. "All right. I've seen what I need to."  
  
"Colonel, what can I do to help?"  
  
Silver heard the pain in his voice. "Being his friend is a great help. On the practical side, I need Adam transferred over as a member of the 58th. I intend to keep him."  
  
"He looked to be in fine shape."  
  
"He should; he's an AI."  
  
Ross looked surprised for a moment. "He's an Adam model? The super doctor?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"A helluva find."  
  
"He used to be a member of the 110th until we were forced to leave him and our badly injured CO. He's the reason those POWs are alive."  
  
"Consider him transferred. I'll find all the relevant paperwork."  
  
"Thanks, commodore. Now, let's go see McQueen."  
  
"You won't like what you see."  
  
"I know, but I need to see him."  
  
They made their swift way to Medical and found Adam ensconced in a large private two patient room. Equipment was hooked up to both unconscious men. When Silver glanced over at Wang, Adam said, "I needed to sedate him. He was getting too agitated by the sight of the colonel."  
  
"You know about McQueen?"  
  
"Everything. I've downloaded his medical history and his personnel file. I have all the information I need."  
  
"Good. I need you to bring him around for a couple of minutes."  
  
Adam studied her for several seconds. "I don't know if I can, Silver."  
  
"Try. I want to know who did this."  
  
"I should have known. I'll do my best."  
  
Adam started lightly slapping McQueen. He spoke in a low, quiet voice designed to penetrate the pain engulfing his patient. "Colonel, wake up. You need to report." His slaps became harder.  
  
'Phousse and Ross started forward, but Silver held them back. "He knows what he's doing. He's got McQueen's psychological profile and intimate knowledge of IVs."  
  
"Colonel, the 58 are back. Wang is back. You must report." Adam slapped McQueen hard repeating the three sentences. Slap. Repeat. Slap. Repeat.  
  
With a gasp, McQueen jerked awake. "Wang!" he called out in a raw, torn voice.  
  
"He's in the bed beside you."  
  
"Who are you?" Voice dropping to a whisper, McQueen glared at Adam.  
  
"Adam. I am your doctor. Special order by Silver."  
  
"How did he survive?"  
  
"Later."  
  
"How!" The rasping hoarseness sent winces through the listeners.  
  
"There was another fighter behind the one that hit Wang's cargo unit. When Wang was thrown into space, he hit the fighter and was taken in by the craft. The pilot brought him to the camp."  
  
"Thank god." McQueen's voice lost what little strength it had.  
  
Silver stepped up. "McQueen, I need to know who did this."  
  
She leaned over when he whispered. Listening to him, Silver's jaw tightened. She stood up, fighting her anger. "McQueen, listen. I brought them all home safe. The 58th is safe and guarding you. Let Adam work on you. He knows what he is doing. He was the medic for the 110th. Trust him."  
  
McQueen nodded slightly, unable to stay conscious any longer.  
  
"Everyone out."  
  
Silver nodded to Adam.  
  
Outside the room, Silver spoke to the anxious 58th. "All right, McQueen's in the best possible hands. I want around the clock coverage of this room. I want three of you here at all times, Two to guard, the third to fetch whatever Adam needs. Got it?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"I'll be back."  
  
"Ma'am, did he say who did this?"  
  
"He couldn't say for certain. But there were ten of them."  
  
"Damn." Vansen sagged against the wall. "Why did they do it?"  
  
"Because he's a tank," stated Hawkes dully.  
  
"Yes. And if they find out he's still alive, they'll come to finish him off. So stay alert."  
  
****  
  
It took Silver three hours to track down and isolate the name McQueen had given her. She dragged him down to the workroom where McQueen had been violated, and administered a drug known as Free Speaker, an inhibitor reducer, hooking him up to a lie detector. The screen displaying the enlarged view of the man's eye stood behind the bound man and a video camera was set up to record the proceedings.  
  
****  
  
Silver brought the recorded disc to Ross. "Sir, you might want to look at this. It is in regards to the attack on Col. McQueen."  
  
"How did you-"  
  
"Your questions will be answered on the disc, sir. I'm going to Medical to check on McQueen and Wang."  
  
****  
  
McQueen had regained consciousness, but was incredibly weak, when Ross brought the disk down to Medical and insisted that he and Silver view it. Adam left the room, having sedated Wang. The disc started, showing Marine Major Danson bound in a chair.  
  
"Let me go!"  
  
"Is your name and rank Major Roger Danson?" Silver's voice was cool, impersonal.  
  
"Yes. Release me. You have no right to do this."  
  
"You are currently stationed aboard the USS Saratoga?"  
  
"I'm not answering your questions."  
  
Menace entered Silver's voice. "You will answer my questions, Major Danson, or I will do more than administer Free Speaker. I will start enacting what you did in this room earlier. And I promise you, I will do a far better job of it than you did. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Danson paled. "Yes."  
  
"You are currently stationed aboard the USS Saratoga?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you hate IVs?"  
  
"Yes. Damn things don't belong with humans. They're just slaves."  
  
"Have you ever killed IVs in cold blood?"  
  
Danson clamped his mouth shut.  
  
"Answer me, Major." Silver placed her hand on Danson's shoulder and squeezed, her fingers digging into his flesh.  
  
"Yes." Fear flashed across Danson's face, followed by resignation.  
  
"Did you mastermind the attack on Col. McQueen?"  
  
"That creature is masquerading as a colonel."  
  
"Did you mastermind the attack on the Marine known as Lt. Col. McQueen?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How many people were involved?'  
  
"Me and nine others got together to teach that thing its place."  
  
"How did you do it?"  
  
"Vented knockout gas into its room. Dragged it down here. We knew the crew wouldn't be back until the next day."  
  
"What did you do then?"  
  
"We beat that damned thing. We beat it and beat it. But he kept getting up, kept struggling to stand before us, until we broke that fake leg; A waste of good equipment, using it on a thing like him. He still struggled, but he couldn't get up any more."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"We fucked it. That's what they're for, isn't it? Fucking. We fucked it until we couldn't any more. Then we beat it some more and left it. It should have died."  
  
"Do you admire that fact that McQueen kept getting up? That he kept struggling to face you? That he continued to fight you?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Ah, but look at the indicator, Danson. It says you're lying."  
  
"No! It's a thing. I can't admire that thing!"  
  
"The indicator doesn't lie, Danson. You know that. It is incapable of indicating anything other than the truth. And the truth is, Danson, that you admire McQueen. You admire him because, despite ten to one odds, he kept fighting, he kept proving himself worthy of the title he holds, he kept proving that he was a better man than you. Isn't that so?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"You're still lying."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Why don't you admit that you beat and raped a better man than yourself? That you did it because you couldn't stand the thought that he was better than you will ever be? That you did it for the simple pleasure of knowing that you could, to prove that you could do whatever you wanted to a better man? To prove that you could destroy a man whose only fault was that he held himself to higher standards than you did yourself."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Danson, did you enjoy what you did to McQueen?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"Explain yourself."  
  
"It was delightful to feel his hard, smooth body in my hands, to feel him jerk and shudder as I forced my way into him. To know there was nothing he could do to stop me from fucking his gorgeous body. And the blood, the sight of it as my knuckles broke his perfect skin made my heart beat faster. It tasted delicious. And it felt wonderful to know there was nothing he could do to me in return."  
  
"So you resented the fact he was better than you?"  
  
"Yes! No! Damn you!"  
  
"Do you admire the fact he kept fighting you?"  
  
"Yes! No! Stop putting words in my mouth!"  
  
"I merely asked you a question. You answered it. The machine merely verified the veracity of the first answer to both of the last questions. Tell me, Danson, did you fantasize about McQueen? Perhaps having him in your bed?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"So, you partially acted out your fantasy?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Did you enjoy watching the others beating and raping McQueen?"  
  
"Yes. To see him beaten, and unable to keep them away, to see them forcing him to submit. I loved it."  
  
"And yet, you admire him for fighting you."  
  
"Yes. Sweat covered his body. He would stand there, swaying, barely able to stand. And that arrogant, superior tilt to his head, that said he'd keep on getting up until he couldn't, that we would have to beat him and beat him before he would surrender. And he never really did surrender. He kept trying to fight us even when we fucked him. It wasn't until we beat him into unconsciousness that he stopped fighting."  
  
"He responded as you would wish you could have."  
  
Danson slumped in the chair. "Yes."  
  
"He acted as a Marine should."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you did not."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Did I do anything to you besides knock you down, drag you down here, tie you to that chair and inject you with Free Speaker?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Who accompanied you on your escapade?"  
  
Ross turned the volume down. "They're in custody already. Silver, how could you manage such a detached manner?"  
  
"Intelligence training, sir. You don't learn what you want to know if they're dead. And I very much wanted what he knew."  
  
"I sincerely hope I never give you cause to come after me." Ross turned to McQueen. "Did he give an accurate portrayal of what happened to you?"  
  
"Yes," he whispered, eyes closed as he turned his head away.  
  
"Why didn't you say so?"  
  
McQueen's voice grated on his friend's ears. "Because it was my word against his. And he could have any of the others back him up in some sort of alibi. And there was no way to prove it was against my will."  
  
"You don't get injuries like yours when its of your free will, McQueen."  
  
"Sir, juries have found against defendants like McQueen. They decide that the victim must have wanted it to happen."  
  
"But any one can see-"  
  
"They have to want to see it, sir." Silver smiled sadly. "I know all about it, sir. That's why I did this. A test of Danson's blood will show that indeed the only drug I administered was in fact Free Speaker."  
  
"So you want me to turn this over to JAG?"  
  
"Actually, no, sir." Silver glanced over at McQueen. "We have another major offensive coming up. Keep them in the brig and then send them in the first wave. They may as well die doing something for us."  
  
"And spare us the time and cost of a trial," growled McQueen before he started coughing.  
  
Silver brought McQueen a glass of water.  
  
"McQueen, do you agree to this? We're being judge, jury and executioner."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Under martial law, it is in your jurisdiction to do that. You have been given the evidence, sir. It is up to you what you do with it." Silver eased McQueen's head down.  
  
When Silver finally left McQueen and Wang, she told the 58th that the culprits had been apprehended and would be punished accordingly. And that no, they would not be informed as to who had done the vicious deed.  
  
The squadron was angry, but also relieved that they no longer had to guard McQueen and instead could actually spend a few minutes with him.  
  
Silver went to her quarters. There she found a message waiting for her from her family. Several published medical papers were included as was the simple message, Ready for the candidate.'  
  
Silver gathered together the 58th, getting them in their barracks, merely saying that it harkened back to her first night on the Toga.  
  
"You've heard?" asked West.  
  
"Yes. And it is positive. They're ready for him."  
  
"Then what are you waiting for?" Hawkes looked angry.  
  
"He's in no shape for the trip to Earth."  
  
"Shit."  
  
"I have an idea that I need to talk to the commodore about. If he okays it, I'll let you in on it. Now, don't tell McQueen. I have to find out a few things from him first. Got it?"  
  
"Yes. We won't tell." Vansen glared at Hawkes.  
  
"What are you looking at me for?"  
  
"Cause you can't keep a secret, Hawkes," laughed 'Phousse.  
  
"I'll keep this one."  
  
"Good."  
  
****  
  
McQueen was sleeping when Silver arrived in Medical. Adam worked on removing the remnants of the artificial leg. She talked quietly with Wang for half an hour, listening to him tell of his experiences as a POW.  
  
"Is the colonel going to be all right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Adam looked up. "Silver, I've removed as much of the artificial leg as I can. What are the plans for his recovery?"  
  
"Hopefully, back on Earth. Look, I need you to read some medical papers my father sent. Tell me if you think the POWs we brought back would benefit." Silver handed a print out of the papers to Adam.  
  
McQueen woke up and saw Adam flipping through papers rapidly.  
  
Silver waited patiently as Adam finished and stood perfectly still.  
  
"I compute that the POWs would benefit from forty percent to one hundred percent from the procedures. Including Wang, here. Any chance of mobility is better than none, in my opinion."  
  
"An AI?" McQueen stared shocked, his voice nearly normal.  
  
"Sir, I am an Adam M model, number 539, programmed as a doctor. I have not been exposed to the Stranahan virus. To do so is to die. I prefer to live and serve as programmed."  
  
"Colonel, Adam here kept us all alive. If it hadn't been for Adam, I wouldn't be alive." Wang struggled to raise himself on an elbow. "He's all right, sir. He even helped me to deal with the Elroy that was in the camp."  
  
McQueen bit back his reaction, especially when he saw Silver pat the Adam on the arm.  
  
"Can you explain the procedures to the other POWs in English, Adam? See how many are interested in trying it."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
As Adam turned to leave, McQueen saw the patch on the AI's clean uniform. The 58th, the Wildcards.  
  
"He's a member of the squad?"  
  
Silver sat down beside McQueen. "Yes. He was the medic for the 110th. He stayed behind when our CO was badly injured on a mission. They were both transferred to this camp before Wang."  
  
"Where is this CO?"  
  
"He died in my arms once we had secured the camp."  
  
The pain in her voice penetrated McQueen's sense of shock. "I'm sorry."  
  
"He was a good man. He deserved better. But even if I had gotten to him sooner, he would not have survived for long."  
  
"Silver, this AI-"  
  
Silver stared at her hands. "His name is Adam. He can't accept the virus, literally. There were two Adams with the 110th. One we called Jay, since he was a J edition. He was captured with several others and me. Lt.'s Black and Stone were badly injured. Jay's medical kit had been confiscated by the AIs and he was desperately trying to keep them alive. An Elroy and Felicity came in and offered a bargain. If Jay took the virus, they would give him the medical supplies. He took the bargain and the virus. It drove him mad. He destroyed the Elroy and Felicity. Literally ripped them into pieces. He told me that he didn't dare touch Black and Stone; that he would not be able to keep from killing them. Then he drove a scalpel into his modem and memory cores before decapitating himself." Her eyes shone with unshed tears.  
  
McQueen stared at her for several seconds before closing his eyes at such self-sacrifice. "Do the others know what he is?"  
  
"Yes. They're a little testy around him, but it's only natural. I asked Commodore Ross to transfer him to the 58th."  
  
Looking at her, McQueen said quietly, "We could use a permanent medic."  
  
Silver nodded quickly. "There's something I need to talk to you about."  
  
"Besides adding an AI to my squadron?"  
  
"Yes." Silver took a deep breath. "There's another procedure among the ones that my father sent. It concerns you."  
  
"Me?" McQueen instantly became wary.  
  
"Will you wait until I've explained before you turn into a porcupine?"  
  
McQueen couldn't maintain a stony face when Wang suddenly burst out laughing.  
  
"A porcupine? Oh, yeah, that's him!"  
  
"There, see what you've done to my reputation?" McQueen failed to keep a smile from his lips as he waved at the laughing Paul.  
  
"You'll survive." Silver stood up and paced. "Look, my father has been involved in trying to spur human regeneration of missing limbs and organs. Fifteen years ago, he realized that it wasn't going to happen with humans for the most part. But that IVs just might be able to, if properly prepared. He sent me word that his latest experiments on volunteer IVs have been one hundred percent successful. No mishaps, no rejections."  
  
"What kind of volunteers?"  
  
"Colonel, my family has always treated IVs like the people they are. Over a thousand of them have been bought over the years and they work with us at current so-called human wages. My family is very wealthy, as you might gather. My father's interest is his own. Accidents do happen and the volunteers came from within our own ranks. They trust us." Her back was ramrod straight.  
  
"I'm doing it again, aren't I?" McQueen sighed. "I am sorry, Silver. I don't mean to anger you. It's just I-"  
  
"Have a very difficult time believing someone might really want to help. No strings attached."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You must be hurt. You actually admitted it."  
  
"Could be." McQueen felt rewarded when she gave him a soft smile. "All right. What does this procedure you want to subject me to entail?"  
  
"After getting you back to Earth, you would be installed at my father's medical center. He needs to run some preliminary tests on you before getting started. In addition, he wants to see what kind of damage has been done to your inner ear. Then comes the part I know you won't like."  
  
"Can't be worse than what those butchers did to me getting me ready for the damn leg. And after."  
  
"You have to go back into a tank. Conscious."  
  
Alarms started going off on McQueen's monitors. Adam hurried in, took one look, shut down the alarms and wisely left without a word.  
  
Through a clenched jaw, McQueen managed, "I was wrong. It can be worse." He looked away. "How long?'  
  
"Four days at a time. A day out for tests, then back in. Thirty five days total."  
  
McQueen swallowed hard. "Twenty-eight days in a tank." His voice trembled. "Conscious."  
  
"It will heal all your current injuries plus regenerate your leg and fix your inner ear."  
  
"Twenty-eight days." McQueen closed his eyes. "Will it work?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And afterward? Then what?" He looked at Silver, letting her see his fear.  
  
"A month of physical therapy. At the end of which, you pass your qualifications tests and return to full active duty. As a pilot and a grunt. A full CO again."  
  
"Really, Colonel Silver?" Wang could not help smiling. "That would be great! It would help a lot knowing that he was back here with the others."  
  
Silver smiled at Wang. "The procedure that Adam is explaining to the other POWs is out of the research my father did on the IVs. He found a way to cause partial regeneration in non-engineered humans."  
  
"Like me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"OOH-RAH! Lead me to it. I'll even live in a tank for a month. I've been stuck on my back, helpless for over four months. I'm sick of it. I want to walk."  
  
"There's no guarantee how much mobility you'll regain."  
  
"Like Adam said, I'll settle for just being able to get up and ooze somewhere. Sign me up!" Wang glanced at McQueen. "What about you, sir? I know the idea of a tank is hard for you. I've seen how Hawkes reacts to tight places. Will you come with me? Let me help you through it?"  
  
Before he could back out, McQueen said, "Yes."  
  
"OOH-RAH!"  
  
"What's going on in here?" Vansen had opened the door. Hawkes, 'Phousse and West were behind her.  
  
"The colonel and I are going to Earth together."  
  
Adam slipped in between the suddenly exhilarated squadron members. He checked Wang's vitals. "I take it, Colonel, that you've informed him of the program?"  
  
"The idea. Not the full disclosure. That I leave to you."  
  
"Always leaving me the hard tasks." Adam smiled at her gently. "Have you slept at all, Silver?"  
  
"What's sleep?"  
  
"Silver, you know the drill. You've been through it enough times. Go sleep."  
  
"Soon. There's one thing left for me to do before I can sleep. Then I will. I promise."  
  
"I'll hold you to it. And of the ones I've talked to, they've all agreed to try the program."  
  
"Thanks, Adam. Let me know when you've talked to them all."  
  
Adam nodded and watched her leave. "Hasn't changed a bit in the last year."  
  
McQueen looked at Adam. "You really were the 110th's medic?"  
  
"Yes, sir. I've been on six hundred and twelve combat drops."  
  
"Six hundred and twelve?" Hawkes' jaw dropped. "Hell, I've only been on a hundred."  
  
"I have five years of combat service on you, lieutenant."  
  
"Call me Hawkes."  
  
"Very well, Hawkes."  
  
"Did you fight?"  
  
"Yes, though I am a doctor, I have defended my patients against both humans and the Chigs."  
  
"What about the AIs?" asked Vansen.  
  
"I've done what I can to protect my patients, captain. But I cannot risk contracting the virus. Or else I'll be utterly useless to those same patients. Humans and the Chigs I could at least reason with to a degree. Both preferred the prisoners to be alive while my so-called fellow AIs delighted in trying to kill my patients. I did not enjoy my time as a prisoner."  
  
"But you are an AI."  
  
"Captain," Adam sighed in defeat. "Forget it. I do not have the inclination or the energy to try and change your view of me. What was done to you in the past is your problem, not mine. I live to serve, not to harm." Adam turned his back on Vansen. "Colonel, in five minutes, I need to put you under for another procedure."  
  
"Yes, doctor."  
  
Adam left the room.  
  
"Ah, hell, Shane, you hurt his feelings." Wang struck his fist against the head board. "He isn't like the others. Adam is a good guy. I used to listen to him at night, when he thought we were all asleep. He'd sit there, talking softly to himself, wondering how much longer he could keep going. Every death was personal. He sat beside them, talking to them, singing to them, letting them know they weren't alone. Each one tore at him. Every night after someone died, it was the same. He would recite the names of every man and woman he had lost the battle for. A litany of names and he would wish he could ask forgiveness. And every time he came back to, it was his duty to keep us alive in case someone came for us." Swallowing hard, Wang said, "And he was so overjoyed that we were finally going to be rescued." Tears ran down Wang's cheeks. "We were damned lucky to have him and all you can do is treat him like dirt. You're no better than the scum who attacked the colonel."  
  
Vansen went pale at the vehement statement. "Paul-"  
  
"Go away, Shane. I don't want to see you treat my friend like that." Wang turned his head.  
  
"Paul-"  
  
Gently, West took Vansen's arm. "I think he means it. Look, it's almost time for Adam to come back to work on the colonel. Let's go. See you later, Paul."  
  
"Bye, Nathan."  
  
"Get better, Paul. I'll stop by later." Hawkes followed West and Vansen out.  
  
'Phousse leaned over and gave Wang a kiss. "It's good to see you, Paul."  
  
"And you, Vanessa." Wang caressed her cheek. "I'm glad you're alive."  
  
She smiled. "And I about you. Don't scare me like that again, all right?"  
  
"Sure. Next time, I'll ask the Chigs nicely not to blow me up."  
  
'Phousse brushed the hair back from his face. "Think Adam would let me stay if I promise to be quiet?"  
  
"Yes," stated Adam, entering. He picked up a syringe and injected a drug into McQueen's IV bag. "Go to sleep, colonel."  
  
"Yes, doctor."  
  
****  
  
Silver stood outside Commodore Ross' quarters. After a deep breath, she knocked.  
  
"Who's at my hatch?"  
  
"Colonel Silver, sir."  
  
"Come." Ross looked up at Silver. "At ease."  
  
"Sir, I need to ask you for a favor. It's about a problem I have."  
  
"Speak."  
  
"There is a program on Earth that will make McQueen a whole man, completely healed, leg and ear included. The same program has the ability to give the POWs better medical care than the VA can."  
  
"And why is this a problem?"  
  
"It is a private organization. The Silver Hart Foundation."  
  
"A prestigious medical foundation."  
  
"Yes. My father is the current head of research and director and let's just say, he runs the place, with my mother's help."  
  
Ross nodded. "Have you spoken to McQueen?"  
  
"Yes. He is willing to undergo the program."  
  
"And the POWs?"  
  
"Those that have been asked are willing as well."  
  
"You are figuring that the military will baulk at giving the best care possible to our people?"  
  
"For free, no. It's actually AeroTech I'm worried about. They won't want this to get out and they'll want to get their hands on the colonel again."  
  
"And keep him out of the war as an active participant. Yes, I see. So what's the favor?"  
  
"I would like to arrange transport of the POWs and the colonel on the same vessel. With the 58th as pilots and guardians for the trip."  
  
"That's asking a lot. But..." Ross leaned back in his chair. "The Toga will be out of action for another three weeks finishing repairs. We are far enough back from the front line that we shouldn't see any action. Do you have a vessel in mind?"  
  
"Yes. It should be arriving in thirty-six hours. The Trojan Horse." When Ross gave her an intrigued look, she said, "My brother's private armored yacht. It has a bay large enough to accommodate three Hammerheads and an ISSCV."  
  
"Pretty big yacht."  
  
"The family hates to do things in a small way."  
  
"So you're related to those Silvers."  
  
"Afraid so."  
  
"What did they say when you enlisted?"  
  
"Once they found out, they just shrugged and said, it figures."  
  
"Not particularly close."  
  
"Closer now than we used to be. They've been letting me know how progress on the programs has been. When we got back from the mission, there was a letter telling me that the latest tests have been successful and that my brother was on his way."  
  
"Convenient."  
  
"They don't listen to anyone else, including AeroTech."  
  
"I guess not. All right. Make the arrangements. Let me know everything. And put the 58th down for forty-eight hours leave when they get to Earth."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
"Just get him back to me in one piece."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
****  
  
Ross stared at the hatch once it had closed behind Silver. The woman intrigued him and it was not sexually. But he had seen the look in her eyes when she thought no one was watching her. If McQueen was in the room, invariably she was studying him, drinking in the sight of him. A powerful attraction on her part. So far, he did not think she had acted on it and he approved of the restraint. He knew McQueen well and a woman chasing him openly would turn him off fast. Ann had quickly snared McQueen despite Ross' warnings to take some extra time and really get to know one another. The divorce had shattered McQueen's already poor self-esteem and the highly addictive Green Meanies that McQueen had turned to had nearly destroyed the man.  
  
He remembered the fierce battle to break him of the Green Meanie habit. Seventy-two hours of sheer hell as McQueen relived the horrendous events of his life and he had stayed by his friend's side the entire time, talking, trying to keep him anchored to the world outside his hallucinations. His voice had kept McQueen calmer than the doctors had anticipated and that had scared him. McQueen had tried to attack him more times than he could remember.  
  
Ross closed his eyes as the memory of the one time he had taken an hour's break. McQueen had been calm for nearly an hour and the doctor had recommended that he take a break and get out of the room for thirty minutes or so. He had returned to McQueen's room to find him in restraints, battling fiercely, screaming, desperate to escape. He had yelled for the doctor and with the appalled doctor had risked serious injury freeing him. Instantly on release, he had curled up into a ball, jerking at imaginary blows. It turned out that an orderly, from another section, had looked into the room, searching for the doctor and McQueen had attacked the man, nearly killing him. Another doctor just coming on duty and unfamiliar with McQueen's case had ordered the restraints. It had taken nearly six hours before McQueen recognized him again as something other than a hallucination.  
  
Another forty-eight hours had gone by before McQueen's system was completely cleansed of the drug, subjecting him to fierce bouts of paranoia. Those had been hard to take as well. Even knowing that McQueen was not truly responsible for the cruel words had not helped.  
  
Afterward, McQueen had apologized profusely, for him, and treated him to dinner. Never again did McQueen turn to drugs to ease his pain.  
  
He did not think that Silver intended to hurt McQueen. Something told him she was serious and obviously up to the challenge of taking on an IV as a lover. The slurs and racial remarks would find little purchase on her tough skin. If Ann had been made of sterner stuff, like Silver, the marriage might have survived.  
  
Silver would be filling in for McQueen and he intended to get to know her better.  
  
****  
  
Silver grabbed eight hours of sleep before searching out the squadron. She found them in the medical wing in with McQueen and Wang. When informed of the decision, the 58th were ecstatic.  
  
To one side, Silver spoke with Adam. "Make sure you get everything you think you'll need for the trip. Jake'll be here in roughly thirty hours."  
  
"I'll have everything together."  
  
"Good." Silver stayed near the wall, watching as the younger members of the squad waxed enthusiastically about going to see their families. West told Hawkes that he was coming with him, no questions, and no protests.  
  
McQueen realized she was gone some time later. He asked Adam quietly when she had gone.  
  
"Fifteen minutes ago."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why do you think?"  
  
McQueen saw that Russell, Finch and St. John were not there as well. "They don't feel part of us. Damn."  
  
"See, you can be observant, when you choose to be."  
  
Swallowing a retort, McQueen asked, "Where did they go?"  
  
Adam shrugged. "I don't know. Somewhere quiet, private. I suspect they're grieving. Major Dupre was well liked. To get so close to rescuing him only to lose him at the end... It's hard."  
  
"Yes." McQueen reached out and voluntarily touched the AI with his good arm. "Adam, thank you for all you did for Wang."  
  
"I did my duty, sir."  
  
"Still, thank you."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
Settling back, McQueen drifted off to sleep listening to his kids talking excitedly.  
  
When McQueen woke next, he knew it was night on the Saratoga. The lights had been dimmed. At his bedside, McQueen saw a still form. "Silver."  
  
"Didn't mean to wake you."  
  
"Where did you go?"  
  
"Many places."  
  
"Do you feel better?"  
  
"Not really. It'll take time. I knew he was most likely dead, but to have him die in my arms..." Silver sighed deeply. "He was a good man who led us well. He never treated the IVs as any one different."  
  
"Rare."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
McQueen tried to reach for her, but she was too far away and he hissed in pain. "Damn Danson!"  
  
"You need to rest and heal."  
  
"I need you to help me."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Ease the headache. Like you did before. Please. I want to stay away from drugs as much as possible. Your touch has never hurt."  
  
"Very well." Silver spent fifteen minutes gently working his head and neck, taking care to avoid the worst of the bruises. She felt him sigh with relief.  
  
"Thank you. That's better than medication." He shifted and winced as his broken shoulder protested. "Damn, I can't stay comfortable."  
  
"Understandable. You nearly died before the commodore found you. And you died twice on the table. Only Ross' threats kept them working on you."  
  
"He's been a good friend. I don't deserve him."  
  
"That's defeatist thinking, McQueen. It is your part to accept his friendship as it is offered, no strings attached, no attempts to analyze why. Just accept it and return it."  
  
"I try to."  
  
"That's why you called him. Deep down you knew you could trust him to find you."  
  
"Yes. Silver, will you be there for me?"  
  
"For as long as you need me."  
  
"Thank you." McQueen hesitated then asked, "Silver, did the 58th know about what you had in mind for me?"  
  
"Yes. I told them the first night. But I told them that I had to wait until you trusted me enough not to smash me through a bulkhead before I finished explaining. And since then, they've been suspicious of my motives."  
  
"Suspicious?"  
  
"Yes. And I think a bit jealous. This isn't going to help you, McQueen. Go to sleep."  
  
****  
  
After a quick and uneventful trip to Earth, Silver stayed with Wang and McQueen as they settled in and endured testing for two days. She was present when they both were placed in tanks.  
  
McQueen shook his head violently as he sat on the lip of the tank, nearly dislodging the head set that would allow him to hear people outside the tank.  
  
"Calm down," stated one of the nurses beside him.  
  
"I can't do this!" McQueen started to shove away.  
  
"Stop it!"  
  
Silver's voice cut through the panic and he sobbed softly, chest hurting.  
  
"Everyone back off." Silver waited until she was alone with McQueen. "All right. We'll take this slow. Look at me."  
  
The sheer terror in his eyes reached her. With a sigh, she rested his head on her shoulder. "Easy. Relax." Silver started to massage his good shoulder. "Listen to me. Do you want to fly?"  
  
"Yes!" The longing he felt filled his voice.  
  
"Then you must go in the tank. Keep focused on the goal. Take it one minute at a time, then one hour, then one day. You can do this. It is not only for yourself, but also for your kids. They want you back. Don't disappoint them."  
  
McQueen looked up into her eyes. "You'll take care of them?"  
  
"Yes. And I'll have Adam to keep them healthy."  
  
On an impulse, McQueen reached up with his good arm and pulled her head down. He kissed her deeply. "God, I'm terrified," he whispered into her ear.  
  
"I know," she whispered back, rubbing her thumb caressingly over his pounding pulse.  
  
"Hold my hand?" He allowed himself to ask a child's request.  
  
"Yes." Her smile was gentle. She took his good hand and helped him shift slightly so he could just slip off the edge. "Do it."  
  
He took a deep breath and let himself go. As the thick liquid closed over his head, McQueen started to panic, but he realized she was still holding his hand. He forced himself to breathe in the liquid and his body remembered the slow rhythm it had used for half his life. Glancing up, McQueen saw he had nearly dragged Silver in with him. Mouthing, thank you,' he released his hold on her hand.  
  
The tank started to rise as the top was closed and Silver quickly moved down to the floor. She grabbed a headset and put it on. "Can you hear me all right?"  
  
McQueen nodded.  
  
"Will you be ok for a few minutes? They're ready to put Paul in."  
  
Swallowing, McQueen nodded again.  
  
"I'll be back as soon as he's in." She switched over to the second frequency.  
  
Wang was carried in and held above the other tank. He saw McQueen and smiled gleefully. Even though he only had the full use of one arm, Wang threw his head back and cried, "OOH-RAAH!" and pushed himself into the tank. He plunged to the bottom, bounced and floated up to the middle.  
  
"Take a couple of deep breaths, Paul." Silver looked up at the young Asian man, seeing the red angry scars he had accumulated over the last four months.  
  
Grinning, Wang gave her a thumbs up and breathed in the liquid.  
  
The other's enthusiasm embarrassed and shamed McQueen.  
  
"Paul, I'm turning you over to the lovely Jennie now." Silver changed back to McQueen's frequency and spoke softly as she returned. "Don't you dare be embarrassed or ashamed, Tyrus Cassius McQueen. It is a legitimate fear, based deep in your subconscious. This is a good way for you to face it and control it." Placing her hand on the glass wall, Silver looked at McQueen. "Next time, you'll have to do it on your own. Or accept Paul's help."  
  
McQueen curled into a loose fetal position.  
  
"Don't you cop out on me, McQueen. I've arranged for my daughter to come in and read to you every day. What do you want her to read for you?"  
  
Uncurling, McQueen moved over to the keyboard set into the side of the tank for him to use to communicate with. Slowly, laboriously, he typed out with one hand, The Lord of the Rings.  
  
"Got you hooked, didn't I?"  
  
McQueen nodded.  
  
"Good. You should finish it by the time the first month is out. And if you ask Cassie nicely, she might even bring some of her music."  
  
Silver enjoyed the chance to introduce both men to her daughter. Cassie was blonde and hazel eyed, nearly as tall as her mother and already tough. Talking about the newest Hammerhead designs, Cassie obviously intended to follow her mother's footsteps. Her body, still growing and filling out, was wiry and nimble even in the jeans and short sleeve shirt she wore.  
  
Head set on, Cassie greeted Paul enthusiastically, discussed his time as a POW gravely, and promised to bring a selection of music on her next visit. Her bouncing in place caused her ponytail to swing about, sweeping her waist with the ends of her hair.  
  
She turned to face McQueen and he saw her eyes narrow slightly as she studied him on her approach. He knew she could see the still livid bruises, the splints, and the stitches holding him together. The anger in her intelligent eyes startled him.  
  
"I hope the bastards responsible paid." Her voice held traces of the anger she felt.  
  
"They're dead, Cassie." Silver rested her hands on the slim shoulders.  
  
"Good. I hope they died slowly."  
  
"I don't know, Cassie. But we made their deaths gain us something."  
  
"I'd resurrect them and kill them again for what they did." Cassie stared intently at him for a moment longer before shaking herself. "I'm forgetting my manners. Hello. My name is Cassie. You already know my mom. And I know who you are."  
  
McQueen typed. "Obviously."  
  
"Oh, a man with wit." She grinned, taking the sting from the words. Glancing up at Silver, Cassie said, "Mom, you certainly know how to pick them. I think I'll wait until you're here before I start dating. I want the real thing."  
  
With affection, Silver smiled at her daughter. "Let me guess, your father has vetoed the dating thing until you're at least fifteen."  
  
"No. Sixteen. But I'm pretty much ok with that. No, I think I want to avoid the ones without a brain cell to rub between my thumb and finger. And most of them before sixteen are too dumb to know better. I don't want a child early in my life."  
  
"Then don't become a soldier, Cassie. As my only child, you will have to have one."  
  
"Ah, Mom. Can't you have some more kids so I'm not the only one?"  
  
"We'll see. Now, why don't you stop talking to me and pay attention to the good colonel?"  
  
"I am."  
  
Cassie gave McQueen a look reminding him of her mother and knew that any man this young woman set her eyes on was lost before he even knew what was happening. That made him wonder about Silver. His thoughts were cut off by Silver's actions.  
  
Cuffing her daughter across the head with a laugh, Silver said, "He's not yours, scamp. Be nice. This is hard enough on him as it is."  
  
Instantly contrite, Cassie said, "I'm sorry, colonel. I know it's hard for you to be in there. I'll try to make it bearable. I've got plenty of books and music. Mom has made sure of that."  
  
"Over half my salary goes to you. It better be buying more than books and music."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I get clothes, too."  
  
"And bunny slippers." Silver grinned.  
  
"Just you wait until Christmas. Wait till you see your presents."  
  
"Oh, God. What could be more humiliating on a Navy vessel than wandering around in the middle of the night in bunny slippers?" With a mock shudder, Silver said, "Don't answer that. Just remember, I do come home on leave."  
  
"Nothing horrible, I promise, Mom."  
  
"Good."  
  
Cassie turned her gaze back to McQueen and he saw the compassion in them as she saw again his mangled body. "It'll get better, colonel."  
  
He typed, "Call me TC."  
  
"Okay, TC. It's easier than calling you colonel all the time."  
  
He nodded.  
  
"I brought the Lord of the Rings, but if you'd rather I didn't start yet, that's ok."  
  
Silver watched as Cassie interacted with McQueen and hoped it was a good sign. She was curious to find out what Cassie thought of McQueen after this initial visit.  
  
Silver stayed until she absolutely had to go and meet the 58th for the trip back to the Saratoga. 


	5. Blood and Souls, Chapter Five

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17 (slash - in later chapters, can be skipped, warning will be issued with the chapter), violence, and lots of graphic sex in later chapters.  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter Five  
  
Over the next three months, Silver proved herself to be as valuable as McQueen. Commodore Ross learned to rely on her on the bridge when she wasn't out flying with the 58th or leading them on ground assaults. The bridge crew adjusted to her different way of working with them and learned not to question her when she suddenly spouted orders. An incident early in the first month taught the lesson well.  
  
Chig fighters were coming at the 5th Fleet in waves, seemingly endless. After five hours of unremitting battle with no end in sight, tempers were fraying and patience in short supply. Silver had suddenly stood up after staring at her LIDAR intently for several minutes, coordinating the space battle almost absently. "Helm, roll ten degrees up to port. Turn twenty degrees to starboard."  
  
Even as the helmsman obeyed and Ross turned to look at her, Silver had snapped, "Gunnery Sergeant, load starboard missile tubes with the new long range Phalanx missiles. Straight line runs."  
  
"What?" The gunnery sergeant turned around in his chair. "Whatever for?"  
  
Silver gave the commodore a glance and gestured to her LIDAR display before facing the gunnery sergeant. "You're relieved of duty. Get off the bridge. I want his replacement up here on the double."  
  
Ross studied the LIDAR readout intently and was about to ask Silver what she had seen when on the edges of the display he caught a flicker of something long and massive. "How many salvos?"  
  
"One to start. Excuse me, sir, but until the gunnery sergeant's replacement arrives-" Silver activated the weapons intercom over the still sitting sergeant. "Missile loading bays, this is Colonel Silver. Load all starboard tubes with the new long-range Phalanx missiles. Straight line runs. Be prepared to load a second salvo."  
  
"Roger that, bridge. Starboard tubes, long range Phalanx missiles. Straight runs."  
  
"Roger."  
  
"Colonel, better send someone to check it out."  
  
"Yes, commodore."  
  
Back at her station, Silver studied the readout and gave a mental sigh when she saw that the closest squadrons were the 58th and the 64th. "Diamond Queen to Queen of Hearts and Fox One. Take your squadrons and proceed to 110, 80 by 190. Confirm bogies."  
  
"Roger, Diamond Queen."  
  
Silver waited as Vansen led the squadrons toward the coordinates. The gunnery sergeant's replacement arrived and took over the task of making sure the loading went smoothly. The relieved sergeant stood near the hatchway, watching.  
  
"Diamond Queen, confirm on boogies. Ten Hive ships. No wonder they're shooting us out of the sky."  
  
"Do not stray between them and us. Defend yourselves but monitor the Hive ships."  
  
"Roger."  
  
"Gunnery Sergeant, are we ready to fire?" Ross snapped.  
  
"Thirty seconds to firing, sir."  
  
"Helm, two degrees to port." Ross chewed his unlit cigar.  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
"Ready to fire, sir."  
  
"Fire."  
  
"Firing, sir."  
  
The Saratoga shuddered under the missile firing and then the waiting began.  
  
"Missiles in visual range," reported Vansen. "Chig fighters trying to take the missiles out. 58, 64, take out those fighters. Stay away from the missiles. One missile destroyed... two... three... four. Impact in thirty seconds. Five missiles... Impact. Damn, one completely missed. Three, four, five Hive ships badly damaged. Three more damaged. Two lightly damaged. They're retreating, Saratoga. Repeat, the Hive ships are retreating."  
  
"Home, 5-8, 6-4. Come on home."  
  
Never again did the bridge crew question any of Silver's orders.  
  
She occasionally flew against the Chigs, enough to keep her flight rating. More often she engaged the 58 and other squadrons in mock combat training flights.  
  
Capt. Vansen led most ground actions, but occasionally Silver accompanied them. It pleased her that Adam had become accepted by the squadron and by the Sickbay personnel.  
  
Every week, Silver received updates from her family as to the progress of the squad's missing two men. McQueen wrote, but his messages were terse things that one had to read between the lines to understand. Paul Wang dictated to Jennie and his letters were much longer and more informative than McQueen's.  
  
Her trio sang songs in Tun Tavern, and were generally accepted as singers, with people asking for requests. Silver introduced Hawkes to different types of music and watched as he started asking Finch, Russell and St. John for some of their discs to listen to. He even asked to check out her collection and found several discs that he wanted to find his own copies of, two of which were late twentieth century punk bands. The one that surprised her though turned out to be Bach's Greatest Hits on Pipe Organ. Hawkes had shyly admitted that he enjoyed the intricate weaving of the instruments and it reached him.  
  
Then Wang's letters mentioned that McQueen finished his physical therapy and gone for his qualification tests.  
  
****  
  
A week later, the 58th returned from a grueling ground-pounding mission. Everyone had taken some sort of light injury, keeping Adam busy. Silver had decided to accompany the squadron; needing to kill some Chigs up close and personal.  
  
Silver let the squad disembark first, feeling weary. Then she heard the excited thrilled voices. Standing in the door of the ISSCV, Silver saw him, standing straight and tall, vital and alive, surrounded by his kids.  
  
She nodded to him and reported to the commodore. "Well, he's back. And definitely in one piece."  
  
"It's good to see him."  
  
"Yes, sir. I'll have a mission briefing for you in the morning if you don't mind, sir."  
  
"Very well, Colonel."  
  
"Night, sir."  
  
"Night, Colonel."  
  
Four hours later, a knock on her hatch dragged Silver from her sleep. "Who's at my hatch?"  
  
"McQueen."  
  
"Just a sec." She staggered over and opened the door. "Come in." Silver dropped down into a chair. "Yes?"  
  
"I wanted to say thank you."  
  
Looking up at him, Silver felt her heart pound harder. Damn, how she wanted him. "So, what's on the agenda?"  
  
"The commodore has agreed to let me lead the next ground mission in a week."  
  
"You're welcome to it."  
  
"I'd like you to stay on the Saratoga."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Again, thank you, Silver."  
  
"You're welcome." Her heart stopped.  
  
Silver locked the hatch behind him and let her tears fall, silently.  
  
****  
  
The following week, Silver approached Commodore Ross' quarters with a heavy heart. She knocked and entered as he called permission.  
  
Glancing up, Ross couldn't help reacting in surprise. "Is there something wrong?"  
  
"Not really, sir. I came to say good-bye, sir. I've enjoyed working with you."  
  
"Good-bye? But-"  
  
"They don't need me any more, sir. McQueen's back in harness and going strong. My job is finished here."  
  
"But you haven't said good-bye to them!"  
  
"I did before they left. They just don't realize it yet."  
  
"But-"  
  
"They don't need me any more, sir. He doesn't need me now. And I sure as hell don't need to sit around, feeling sorry for myself. It'll do none of us any good."  
  
"My god! You're in love with him, aren't you?"  
  
"Before I even came here. I wanted to get him into the regeneration program. I wanted to give him back his life. And I was foolish enough to hope I could somehow be a part of that life." Silver shrugged. "I was wrong. When all I got was a simple thank you and not a damn thing more, I knew I had to leave. I waited until they left on a mission. It'll be easier this way. Hell, I don't think they'll even notice I'm gone. My three will, but they are now a part of the 58th. They can't come with me."  
  
"Silver, don't just leave. Wait 'til they're back."  
  
"I wouldn't be able to do it then, sir. And, I've already got my new assignment." Silver withdrew an optical disc from a hip pocket. "Sir, I have three personal requests."  
  
"Ask."  
  
"Please make sure that what's left in my quarters is sent home to Earth. I've left gifts for people. What's left is for my daughter and my family."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Make sure no one mistreats Adam. He's really worth his weight in gold."  
  
"Not a problem."  
  
"And please... send a retrieval team for me in three months." She handed him the disc. "That's where I'm going. Don't bother trying to decode it. It won't decode until the three months is up. I'll do my best to be alive."  
  
Ross closed his hand around the disc. "Silver-"  
  
"Your gift is in my quarters, sir, on the bed. Thank you, and it's been a pleasure. Good-bye." Silver saluted him and spun on her heel.  
  
"Silver!"  
  
Back rigid, Silver walked out of his quarters and closed the hatch behind her. She fled down the corridor and was out of sight by the time Ross wrestled open the hatch.  
  
"Oh, god, Silver, watch your back."  
  
A single Hammerhead left the Saratoga and slipped into the warp nexus ten minutes later.  
  
****  
  
Ross received word just before dinner that the 58th's ISSAPC was preparing to dock. He went to their quarters to wait, having left word that the entire squad was to report to their barracks, including McQueen. For three days his worry had festered, building into a kind of rage.  
  
The 58th started to enter their quarters, tired, pleased, and somewhat puzzled. They were surprised to find the Commodore waiting for them.  
  
Ross ignored them, waiting for one in particular.  
  
When McQueen entered on the tail of the squadron, Ross reacted, rising and slamming McQueen into the wall.  
  
Caught completely off guard, McQueen could only stare at the man he had always considered a friend. "Sir?"  
  
As the 58th stood, stunned by the attack, Ross growled, "Dammit, McQueen! Didn't you do anything during the week you were back to let her know she was a part of the unit?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"When you came back, how did you thank Silver?"  
  
"I said thank you, sir."  
  
"And then you ignored her, didn't you?"  
  
"Sir, I-"  
  
Ross' rage lifted McQueen off his feet, hands wrapped in the IV's uniform front. "Did you ask her advice?" He banged McQueen against the wall. "Did you even try to make her feel a part of this unit?" And again. "Did you even try to express the gratitude you owe her for what she gave back to you?" And again. "Did you?"  
  
McQueen could only stare at Ross, slowly realizing what he had done.  
  
The stunned expression in McQueen's eyes answered Ross and he vented his ire, punctuating every word by slamming McQueen into the wall. "You goddamned, stupid, thoughtless, son of a bitching, jackass of a tank!" He pulled McQueen down and snarled in his face, "Do you know what you've done?"  
  
Tossing McQueen aside, Ross turned to the 58th. "Did any of you bother to make her feel like a part of you?" At their guilty expressions, Ross growled, "For three months she led you, fought beside you, bled with you. She gave you back McQueen. And you couldn't even let her be one of you."  
  
Rubbing his head and shoulder, McQueen rose from where he had been tossed.  
  
Ross' rage died as he swept the room with contemptuous eyes. "I'm disgusted with the lot of you. You broke her spirit with your disregard; you broke her heart with your pettiness." His shoulders sagged and Ross turned to the door.  
  
Finch sat on her bunk. At what she found there, Finch screamed, "No!" and collapsed to the floor. "No!" she keened over and over.  
  
St. John took one look and crumpled down beside her, his arms around her, trying to comfort.  
  
"What?" demanded Hawkes.  
  
Russell turned from his bunk and taking precise, controlled steps, he stood beside Finch and St. John. Despair filled his voice and eyes as he answered Hawkes. "She took the job. Took the damned job. She wouldn't take it as long as we needed her." The color drained from his face.  
  
"So what's got you upset?"  
  
Russell slowly faced Hawkes. "She left-" He couldn't force the words out and merely gestured to all the bunks.  
  
Hawkes ran to his bunk. He held up the six CDs, going through them. The three he had really liked were there. The rest were ones she had recommended to him.  
  
Silently, the rest of the 58th went to their bunks.  
  
'Phousse found a collection of Shakespeare with a small box sitting on top. Written on it was 'Happy B-day, 'Phousse.' "She remembered my birthday was next week." Inside was a hand embroidered silk scarf.  
  
In her bunk, Shane found a battered first edition of Boelcke's Dicta. She picked it up as the treasure it was.  
  
West picked up the copy of Moby Dick, running his fingers over the leather binding. Opening it, he discovered a note inside the front jacket. Try not to become Ahab. Live your life. Take what comes and enjoy living. Silver.'  
  
Hawkes asked, "Why?"  
  
"They're parting gifts, son," answered Ross from the doorway.  
  
When Hawkes shrugged, not understanding, Russell recited dully, "When a warrior does not expect to return, he gives parting gifts to those he cares for. They are to serve as remembrances."  
  
"What is this job she took?" demanded Shane. She almost recoiled at the pain in Russell's face.  
  
"They needed someone to penetrate deep into Chig space, to gather information. She always referred to it as crossing the River Styx."  
  
"That's insane! It's a suicide mission!" declared 'Phousse.  
  
"That was the job they offered her before she came here. She turned it down at the time. She said she hoped never to have to go on another covert mission. She said if things didn't work out here, then if they still needed her to go, she would."  
  
McQueen flinched when Russell stared at him. He could see the life draining out of the IV, replaced with emptiness.  
  
"We didn't go to her that last night!" sobbed Finch.  
  
They had gone to the pre-mission party, McQueen remembered. Silver had been there. He had seen her several times. But as he thought about it, she had ghosted, watching, but not participating. And then she had left and he had not even noticed when.  
  
"When does she come out?" McQueen forced himself to ask Ross.  
  
"Three months, if she's still alive."  
  
"We'll bring her out."  
  
"You have to earn it." Ross pointed to the three newest members to his squad. "You keep them alive and willing to go, and I'll consider it."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Sickened with himself, McQueen bolted for the door. He ran through the corridors, heedless of who he bowled over. His quarters; he had to see if she had left anything. The door had been locked, but she would have found a way around that.  
  
Still locked. McQueen hastily unlocked the door and entered. Nothing appeared disturbed. A step in and he found it hard to breathe as he spotted the two stacks of books in the desk chair. Slowly he picked up the shortest stack. A note stuck out of the top book. For Wang. Tell him I'm sorry. S.' The books were on astronomy, Shakespeare and philosophy.  
  
McQueen set the stack on the desk and sank to his knees beside the chair, turning the chair so he could see the spines of the books. He read them from the top down. The Lord of the Rings trilogy, the Hobbit, the collected Horatio Hornblower stories, and the collected works of Lewis Carroll. His hand clenched around what lay on the topmost book. Dog tags. The tags in his hand, McQueen bowed his head, the tears running down his face. He remembered how she would touch him, never pushing, banishing headaches, waiting for him to say he was ready. He remembered how she had eased his pain in Medical after Danson had used him so violently.  
  
"She had me send what was left of her belongings to Earth." Ross stood in the doorway.  
  
McQueen slipped her dog tags over his head. He would return them when he brought her out of hell. "Adam? Did she take him?" There was hope she would still be alive if the AI had gone with her. He tucked them under his uniform.  
  
Ross shook his head. "He locked himself in her quarters the day after she left."  
  
McQueen lurched to his feet and ran, desperately, to Silver's quarters.  
  
The door was unlocked. "Come in, colonel."  
  
McQueen did so, turning on the light.  
  
In the farthest corner of the room sat Adam, a pistol in his right hand and something gold dangling from his left. "I hoped you would come. I wanted to tell you something. I initiated a virus in my secondary and tertiary memory cores. No one will ever know from me what she is."  
  
"Adam? What are you saying?"  
  
McQueen could hear despair in the AI's voice. "I could not help her. There was nothing I could do for her and she thanked me any way. I could not help the only person who ever saw me as something other than a machine."  
  
The pistol lifted.  
  
"No!" McQueen lunged for Adam.  
  
The pistol fired.  
  
McQueen grabbed the oil-covered form. "No! Adam!"  
  
"Good night, sweet prince," whispered Adam. "She loved you."  
  
Oil stopped pumping, servos ceased moving, and the light died from the cross haired eyes. The object held in the left hand dropped to the floor.  
  
McQueen held an empty metal body. Gently, he laid Adam down. He snagged the object from the floor before standing. The gold Celtic cross bit into his hand as he stared down at the dead AI.  
  
"Damn! He was worth three doctors." With a sigh, Ross entered. "He deserved better."  
  
"The 58th Air Cavalry squadron will return her to the Saratoga, sir."  
  
"I already told you the condition for that, colonel."  
  
"Yes, sir." McQueen straightened his body. "The 58th will retrieve Col. Silver."  
  
"Tell me one thing. Did you even think about really thanking her?"  
  
Shame bowed McQueen's head. He forced the words out. "I was too wrapped up in being back. I intended to, I really did. It just got pushed to the side."  
  
"I expected better of you, Ty. Of everyone in the 58th, I expected you to remember what it is like to be used and shunted to the side." Ross leaned against the wall.  
  
McQueen's head snapped up. "I didn't use..." The look on Ross' face warned McQueen not to lie, to either of them. Head dropping, McQueen admitted, "Yes, I used her." He slowly met Ross' unforgiving gaze. "I intend to make it up to her."  
  
"She has to be alive for that to work."  
  
"She will be."  
  
"You deserve disciplining." As McQueen stiffened, Ross continued in a soft, level voice that told McQueen how disappointed the man was in him. "I could yank the 58th from you, but that would be too cruel to them. No, I think this needs to be something just for you. I want your word, McQueen, that you will accept whatever private discipline measure I decide on."  
  
Terror coursed through McQueen at the words 'private discipline.' Memories of natural born men inflicting their own brands of private discipline on his helpless body over the years coiled in his mind.  
  
Ross recognized the terror and guessed at the cause. "McQueen, look at me. See me. Remember who I am. Have I ever truly hurt you? Before today, any way."  
  
McQueen's head jerked side to side. His eyes were wide in panic. When Ross gently touched his arm, McQueen shuddered and pulled away.  
  
Exasperated, Ross grabbed McQueen by the chin and forced McQueen to look at him. "I swear it will be private, there will be no sex involved, and no blood. I am not a damned Monitor. I am your friend and your commanding officer. I can't just let this go. This is unacceptable behavior. Trust me, McQueen. I will not truly hurt you."  
  
The terror receded somewhat and McQueen managed a curt nod. "What... what if... if I can't accept it?"  
  
"Then you will come up with a suitable punishment. But I think I have one in mind that will serve. If we start it and you truly cannot finish it, then you can tell me to stop. And we will try a different approach."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Ross nodded. "My word."  
  
More of the tension drained from McQueen. "Then I will accept your discipline. My word."  
  
"Report to my quarters in an hour, clean, and not in your flight suit. I want a regulation shirt, t-neck, t-shirt and real pants. Shoes, no boots."  
  
McQueen nodded.  
  
"Have Adam taken care of properly before then."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Ross left.  
  
When the door shut, McQueen collapsed to the floor, trembling. He couldn't shake the memories of whips, chains, tasers and vicious gang rapes that others had considered private discipline. It took nearly ten minutes for him to collect his composure and feel able to walk the corridors.  
  
The hour up, McQueen stood before the commodore's quarters, inwardly shaking. He had showered until the water ran cold before dressing. A tremor coursed through him as he raised his hand to knock.  
  
"Who's at my hatch?"  
  
"Col. McQueen, sir."  
  
"Come in," came the order.  
  
McQueen entered the commodore's ample quarters. Normally, the familiar sights would have quieted McQueen; soothed his nerves, but he could not relax. Ross was not in sight and his sense of panic grew. He stood at attention in the center of the room.  
  
"At ease, McQueen." Ross stepped out of the bathroom, straightening his uniform. He could see the terror in McQueen's eyes and body. Sitting down in the chair before his desk, Ross said, "Open the top dresser drawer. Bring me what you find there."  
  
McQueen obeyed and stared at the paddle. He swallowed hard before picking it up and bringing to Ross. He knelt before the black man and bowed his head, forcing himself to submit.  
  
"Do you know what punishment I intend to mete out, McQueen?"  
  
"Y... yes, sir. A spanking."  
  
"Have you ever had one?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"It is not intended to be brutal, McQueen. I want you to remember that. A proper spanking is humiliating and painful for some time afterward. Will you trust me to administer this spanking properly?" Ross lifted McQueen's head up by the chin.  
  
"Yes, sir." McQueen couldn't help his body's trembling.  
  
"To be done properly, you need to strip completely. I want to be able to read your body language. I don't want to drive you into a panic because of your stubborn nature. I will be giving you twenty five strokes." Ross released his light hold on McQueen's chin. "When you're ready," Ross said firmly. "Put your clothes on the other chair."  
  
It took McQueen a moment to gather himself together. When he moved, it was swiftly before he could change his mind. He rose and stood before Ross, his hands unbuttoning his shirt while he stared at the wall above Ross' head, unconsciously staying within reach of Ross. Slipping out of the shirt, McQueen folded it neatly and set it on the leather chair. He changed directions, removing his shoes and socks, tucking them up under the chair.  
  
As McQueen started to pull the white turtleneck over his head, Ross could see the tremors coursing through the man. He waited until McQueen had placed the shirt on the chair neatly before grabbing McQueen by the belt and dragging him down and forward onto his knees. Automatically, McQueen bowed his head. "Listen to me, McQueen. I am not going to beat you indiscriminately or throw you on the bed and fuck you, no matter how tempted I might be. I am going to do one thing and one thing only. I am going to give you a well-deserved spanking. Now, I am not going to make you get dressed and start over, but I do not want to see you reacting in fear of me. It is a spanking, nothing more. And I want you focused on what is happening here and why. I do not want you thinking about what some damn pervert did to you in the past. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes, sir." McQueen's voice was low.  
  
"Look at me." As McQueen obeyed, Ross gripped his chin. "I know damn well what that head bowing means, exposing your neck navel like that. Don't you ever do that to me unless you fully intend for me to make love to you. Got it?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
The panic had retreated for the time being, Ross could see. "Continue when you are able." He leaned back into his chair.  
  
A deep breath and McQueen rose, still in reach. Steady hands stripped the white t-shirt off and folded it.  
  
The scars that covered the pale skin drew Ross' gaze. He wanted to run his hands over them. His nostrils flared as he ruthlessly crushed all thoughts that might lead to sex. Reaching deep into his command training, Ross compartmentalized his libido and hung the key up on an imaginary wall. He did not intend to destroy their friendship.  
  
McQueen had unfastened the belt and started to lower the pants by the time Ross had himself under full control.  
  
McQueen's movements slowed as he folded the pants and set them carefully on the chair.  
  
"Finish." Ross' voice did not reveal any emotion.  
  
Not wishing to anger Ross, McQueen obeyed and stood before his commanding officer, naked at last, only the two pair of dog tags and the gold Celtic cross hanging from his neck.  
  
Ross rose. His hand was gentle on McQueen' arm as he turned the IV around and made him take a couple of steps from the chair. "On your hands and knees."  
  
Bonelessly, McQueen obeyed.  
  
McQueen's posture was not quite right so Ross nudged his knees further apart with a foot. He saw the tension tighten the body before him. "I'm just positioning you properly. I don't expect you to relax completely, but stop tightening up so. You're going to get hurt that way."  
  
McQueen nodded briefly and strove to relax his body several notches. He reminded himself that Ross was a friend, that Ross was not going to really hurt him. It helped some.  
  
Placing a hand on McQueen's lower back, Ross crouched beside McQueen. "If it becomes too much, tell me. I don't want to hurt you." As McQueen nodded, Ross added, "Keep count, with cadence. It's twenty-five." Ross rose.  
  
"Yes, sir." McQueen's voice was almost normal.  
  
The whistle reached McQueen's ear an instant before the shock of impact. A gasp escaped McQueen before he could control it. "ONE!"  
  
Ross kept an even rhythm, several seconds between each hard blow. He paused longer at the fourth.  
  
"FOUR! I LOVE THE MARINE CORPS!"  
  
After the twelfth blow, Ross let his arm dangle and ran his free arm down from McQueen's trembling shoulders to lower back. "Easy. Take a few deep breaths." The effort McQueen made not to cry was transmitted through his entire body. "Ready?"  
  
A curt nod answered him.  
  
At twenty, Ross paused again to rest his arm. "Breathe, McQueen." He asked softly, "Do you need to stop this?"  
  
McQueen shook his head.  
  
"Are you ready?"  
  
McQueen shook his head again.  
  
Having a good idea from the heaving of McQueen's chest as to why McQueen did not want to continue, Ross said, "Stopping because you're trying not to cry is not valid. Crying is good for the soul. Stopping because the pain is too much is valid. Which is it?" He did not figure it to be the pain that was truly causing McQueen to cry. It would be humiliation and the shame at his actions tearing McQueen apart.  
  
"Continue, sir," sobbed McQueen.  
  
"I asked you a question, McQueen."  
  
"Crying, sir," whispered McQueen hoarsely.  
  
"Very well. Ready?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
McQueen was openly sobbing at twenty-five. His body shook with the force of his sobs and he was taken completely unawares by the next blow. McQueen yelped in pain.  
  
"Good. That's the last one." Ross tossed the paddle on the desk and crouched by McQueen's head and lifted the colonel's head by the chin. "Do you know why I gave you an extra one?"  
  
McQueen could only shake his head.  
  
"For acting like a teenager." When McQueen blinked and looked uncertain, Ross stated, "You acted like a thoughtless, hormone driven fifteen year old. An especially thoughtless one."  
  
Closing his eyes, McQueen tried to hide his hurt.  
  
"Look at me. I'm explaining this to you. Good. You are a Lt. Colonel in the Marine Corps. You cannot, repeat, cannot afford to act like a fifteen year old. I haven't met a fifteen year old yet who hasn't needed a good butt tanning, but I never thought I would have to give you one. I thought you were past that. Now, as a Lt. Colonel, can you ignore a member of your squad?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"And did you?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"If it had been one of your kids, you wouldn't have ignored the signs."  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"But you never accepted her as a member, did you?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"Were her papers in order?"  
  
"Yes, sir. She was officially a member of my squadron. We just didn't treat her like one. Sir, I'm sorry." McQueen's control broke and he collapsed sobbing to the floor, overcome by the raging emotions in his soul.  
  
With a sigh, Ross wrapped his arms around the tortured soul and pulled him onto the bed. He held McQueen until the body racking sobs eased, stroking his friend like he would any child, whispering soothing words. When at last McQueen lay quiet with only the occasional body twitching, Ross raised himself onto an elbow and smiled at the fact that McQueen slept the exhausted sleep of a child.  
  
Ross slid out of bed carefully, covered McQueen with a blanket and stripped off his own uniform. He took a shower and, back in a t-shirt and briefs, eased back down behind McQueen, pulling the blanket up over himself. This was not a night to leave McQueen alone.  
  
****  
  
A heavy weight across his chest and arms was the first thing McQueen became aware of as he woke up. He started to panic as he realized he was in bed with Ross whose arm was draped across his body.  
  
The arm tightened. "Relax, Ty. I'm not doing anything. You need to stay with someone tonight."  
  
McQueen struggled to regain his composure, the mask he presented the world. "Sir, I'm fine."  
  
"Like hell. Now shut up and go back to sleep. It's only been two hours."  
  
McQueen tried a different tack. "I haven't eaten in over twelve hours, sir."  
  
"It's not going to work. You are staying with me, one way or another. Now I can handcuff you to me or you can accept the inevitable. It's your choice."  
  
McQueen admitted defeat. "I will stay, sir, but you will regret it, sir. I do not sleep well under the best of circumstances."  
  
"I know. The nightmares." Ross reached up and gently stroked the side of McQueen's neck. He felt McQueen's surprise. "I've heard you on nightly strolls. Every one knows, Ty. Some just willfully decide it is something else. Those of us who know you, we know the truth. You're a tortured soul. A soul in desperate need of healing."  
  
McQueen buried his face in the pillow, swallowing hard. After a moment, he said softly, "Glen, I really need to eat something."  
  
Raising himself on his elbow, Ross turned McQueen's head so he could see the pale blue eyes. "You aren't going to hold this against me?"  
  
"I can't. You were right. I needed the lesson. And I need you as my friend." McQueen bared his soul, feeling the tears threatening to fall again.  
  
"Thank god. I was really worried you would never accept me as your friend again." Ross smiled softly. "Don't ever make me do that again."  
  
"I'll try not to. But I won't hold it against you if you decide I deserve it again."  
  
"Good. Now, go get dressed and I'll show you a privilege of rank." Once McQueen had rolled out of the bed, Ross followed. He couldn't help grinning at the gasp of pain from McQueen as the colonel struggled to put on his briefs. "You'll be standing for a day or two."  
  
Ross finished dressing before McQueen and he watched as McQueen attempted to tuck his shirts into his pants. "That's your uniform for the next three days. Unless you go on a mission."  
  
"Yes, sir," came the subdued reply.  
  
"Ty, it's all part of the punishment."  
  
"I know, sir. It just hurts like hell."  
  
"You'll get over it faster than most teenagers. And Ty, if I ever have to do that again, I'll make you sit down for five minutes after your tanning. If you think what you're feeling now hurts, wait till you feel that."  
  
"Ross?"  
  
"Dammit, Ty, parents have been disciplining their children this way forever. My dad would tan my butt, and then make me sit for five minutes in a wooden chair. And then I still had to go to school and sit through my classes. Now that's punishment."  
  
"Why do that?"  
  
"Because sometimes it is the only way to get through a child's thick skull. As a famous comedian once observed, children are born brain-damaged. Not literally, it just seems so. Now fasten that belt. I haven't eaten since last night. I was too angry."  
  
"I'm sorry, Glen."  
  
"Enough. Now come on."  
  
Ross led the way to the officer's mess. He unlocked the door and made his way to the kitchen. There he pulled out all the makings for a couple of huge sandwiches.  
  
McQueen's gaze grew anxious as more and more items were placed on the counter.  
  
"Don't just stand there. Wield a knife and slice the tomato. Nice thin slices."  
  
Holding the knife Ross handed him, McQueen remembered his wife, laughing indulgently and showing him how to slice tomatoes.  
  
"Good job. I'll be ready for them in just a sec." Ross slathered mayonnaise on three of the six bread slices and started slapping several different types of meat down on the bread. "Four slices on top of the meat," he said to McQueen.  
  
Next came Swiss cheese, lettuce and another layer of different meats. "Damn, they're out of sweet and spicy mustard. Just have to make do with honey mustard."  
  
"Glen."  
  
"Don't worry, you'll love it." The mustard spread, Ross slapped the tops onto the sandwiches and placed them on disposable plates. He used McQueen's knife to cut the sandwiches diagonally before cleaning it. He pushed two sandwiches over to McQueen. "Go ahead. Start eating. You need to refuel that body of yours."  
  
Squashing the sandwich, McQueen wondered about how it would taste. McQueen found he enjoyed the mixture of tastes.  
  
They ate quietly, Ross sitting on a stool and McQueen standing, leaning over the counter. When they had finished, Ross reached back into the refrigerator and snagged two beers.  
  
"Why are-"  
  
"I informed the head cook when I took over the Saratoga that I sometimes want to make myself a sandwich in the middle of the night. Rather than waking up staff, I told him that I would appreciate it if the necessary ingredients were always on hand. Of course, I insure this with a bottle of seven year old Scotch every month."  
  
"I'll have to remember that."  
  
"Ty, what did Adam say to you? I could hear that he said something."  
  
Staring at the counter, McQueen remained silent for a moment. Then he said softly, "Good night, sweet prince. She loved you."  
  
Ross sighed. "It's true. She told me she loved you before she even came aboard the 'Toga."  
  
"And I tossed her away." McQueen sighed.  
  
"Enough. Start thinking of ways to keep her kids alive. She left them with you because she trusts you to take care of them." Ross finished the cleaning up. "Come on. Back to bed with you. You've had a trying day."  
  
In Ross' quarters, McQueen stood beside the bed, hesitating.  
  
"Out of that uniform and into bed. Now." Ross removed his shirt and shoes and sat in his comfortable leather chair, pulling his guitar into his lap. He ignored McQueen and started strumming.  
  
A few minutes later, Ross saw McQueen slide into the bed. "Go to sleep, Ty."  
  
"Yes, Glen."  
  
Ross smiled and turned down the lights. He played until he saw the tension flow out of McQueen's body, signaling that McQueen had succumbed to sleep. Still he played for another hour, hoping the sound of the music would hold off the nightmares.  
  
At last, Ross rose and put the guitar aside. He slid into bed behind McQueen and straightened the covers.  
  
****  
  
In the morning, McQueen could barely move without hissing in pain. He gave Ross a dirty look as the man snickered for the tenth time. "It's not funny."  
  
"Ah, but the way you are moving is." Taking pity, Ross stepped into the bathroom for a moment. He handed McQueen a bottle of pills. "Nothing addictive. I triple checked myself. One pill every three hours. It won't kill the pain, but will make it bearable."  
  
"Thanks." Realizing he sounded surly, McQueen smiled at Ross. "Really. Thanks."  
  
"Now go get yourself something to eat and tend to your kids. They're going to really need you today."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
****  
  
McQueen ate steadily, making inroads in a huge breakfast he stood at the counter eating. The mess was almost empty. Nearly finished, he spotted a harried looking West enter the mess at a trot.  
  
"Sir!" West slid to a stop. "We need you!"  
  
With a nod, McQueen left his food and trotted after West, already headed back to the squadrons' barracks.  
  
"It's Finch. She got up, started to take a shower and just froze. We can't get her to move or anything," explained West as McQueen caught up.  
  
"Damn!"  
  
They found the squadron in various stages of undress in the shower room, surrounding Finch, trying to make a connection.  
  
In the doorway, McQueen asked forcefully, "Has everyone had their shower?"  
  
"Yes, sir," was chorused back.  
  
"Then turn off the water and everyone get out of here. Except you." McQueen grabbed St. John by the arm. "You're her lover?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. I want you to keep everyone out of here. And I mean everyone. When I do come out, you're to come in and hold her, talk to her, ground her to here. If that means making love to her, do it."  
  
"Sir, are you - I mean, do you have any idea what's wrong?"  
  
"Guilt. Something I know a great deal about."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
McQueen squeezed the young man's shoulder. "You'll understand in time. Just do what I ask, St. John. Later we will all sit down and have a serious talk."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Shutting the door behind him, McQueen took a deep breath. He strode over until he was a few feet from Finch and stopped. "Finch, it's McQueen." His voice was low.  
  
A slight movement of her head was the only sign she had heard.  
  
"I know you can hear me. I'm going to take another step toward you. Aren't you getting cold? I'm going to stand here behind you. There. Now, I'm going to put my arms around you. Nothing to it, see?" He raised a hand to stroke her blonde hair. "It wasn't your fault, you know, Finch. She didn't leave because you didn't come to her that night. If she had wanted you to, she would have asked you. Isn't that right?"  
  
A jerky nod.  
  
"She left you in my care. She trusted me to take care of you. And I will." He pulled her tight against his body and leaned back on the wall. "Let's sit down."  
  
A strangled hiss escaped him as McQueen reached the floor. He felt Finch twist in his arms. "It's not you, Finch. The commodore gave me a pointed lesson last night. Just relax. Everything will be all right. I promise you I will do everything in my power to bring her back, alive. The commodore promised that if I take care of you three properly that we get to bring her back. Please, Finch, I want to bring her back. Help me do that."  
  
What he had been waiting for happened. Finch started crying, the all out entire body sobs so similar to the ones he had shed the night before. She turned in his arms and he suppressed a groan at the resurgence of pain the shifting of weight caused. Finally, to ease his pain, McQueen stretched on his side back to the wall, still cradling the crying Finch. The memory of Ross' voice speaking softly to him while he lay in the man's arms prompted him to do the same to Finch. He stroked her hair as he recited Shakespeare sonnets.  
  
Her sobs slowed down and she lay quietly in his arms.  
  
"Better?"  
  
"Y...yes, sir."  
  
"It's all right. As someone told me recently, crying is good for the soul."  
  
"But sir-"  
  
"I have no intention of discussing whether or not we have souls on the shower floor, lieutenant," McQueen stated firmly.  
  
Finch wriggled around and gasped as she saw the state of his uniform. "Oh, sir, your uniform. It's soaked all down the side."  
  
"And my socks and shoes are wet as well. Good thing I have another pair of shoes. I'm not looking forward to breaking this pair back in once they're dry." He gave her a quirk of the lips and was rewarded with her very brief smile in return. "Will you be all right now?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Finch moved away from him.  
  
"Good." With a groan, McQueen rolled onto his hands and knees. He surged to his feet and staggered. Recovering, McQueen held out his hand for Finch. As she took it, he said, "I'm sending St. John in. Take your time. And pray we don't have a Chig attack."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
He scooped up a towel from the floor and tossed it to her. At the door, McQueen hesitated for a second. "Finch."  
  
"Yes, sir?"  
  
"We will bring her back."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
A nod and McQueen opened the door.  
  
St. John slipped in and shut the door.  
  
"Where's Russell?"  
  
No one remembered seeing him that morning.  
  
"Shane, stay here and make sure they aren't disturbed. The rest of you search the ship, quietly. But find him." Alive, McQueen wanted to stress, but he followed the squadron into the corridors.  
  
On an impulse, McQueen returned to Silver's quarters. The door was still unlocked. Adam's body had been removed and taken, he hoped per his orders, to the morgue. The oil stained sheets and blankets had been removed. Not that it had mattered to the young man curled up on the floor.  
  
Ready to deal with anything from an irate tank to another comatose one, McQueen sat on the bed and gently shook Russell's shoulder.  
  
Slowly Russell uncurled and sat up. He stared at McQueen's shoes. "Your shoes are wet, sir."  
  
"I know. I had to help Finch. She wasn't ready to leave the shower."  
  
"She was close to Silver."  
  
"So are you. Seven years builds a lot of memories."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
McQueen tilted the young man's head up so he could see the red head's hazel eyes. "It isn't your fault, or Finch's or St. John's. If it is anyone's fault that she left, it is mine. I knew better. I just didn't act on it. But I intend to get her back here. I'm going to need your help though, when the time comes. Will you help me?"  
  
The hazel eyes studied him and McQueen remained still, knowing the young IV was trying to read the strength of his conviction.  
  
"All right."  
  
"Let's get back to the barracks. Everyone's out looking for you."  
  
McQueen left Russell with Shane at the barracks and went to his quarters. Before he changed clothes, he got an intraship com line and ordered the 58th to report to Debriefing Room 4 in an hour. Stripping out of his uniform, McQueen found he was soaked to the skin down his right side. With a curse, he divested himself of his remaining clothes and resigned himself to the pain of getting dressed again.  
  
****  
  
McQueen was waiting in the briefing room when the 58th entered. He acknowledged their salutes and gestured for them to sit down. Instead of his customary perching on the desk, McQueen stood before them, hands behind his back.  
  
"First, I am not talking to you strictly as your CO, but as a member of this squadron. Second, Commodore Ross was right last night. Our actions toward Col. Silver were reprehensible. She was a member of this squadron and we treated her like dirt. I want an explanation from each of you as to why you did so." He hesitated and forced himself to say, "And I will tell you mine."  
  
They could hear his shame and shifted uneasily in their seats.  
  
"I'm serious, people." McQueen focused his gaze on Shane. "Shane."  
  
She couldn't keep her eyes on his. "Sir, I don't think this is a good idea."  
  
"And you think causing a fellow officer to believe she had no place with us is."  
  
"No, sir. But... I don't know, sir."  
  
"Answer my question, Shane. Why did you treat Silver badly?"  
  
It took Shane a long moment before she risked glancing up at his stony face. His eyes, though, shone with the pain he felt. "She... she wanted you, sir."  
  
"And this is bad?"  
  
"I didn't want any one hurting you, sir."  
  
"Am I incapable of taking care of myself, Shane?"  
  
"No, sir. I just don't want to see you hurt. Most women don't see you as a man. They see you as a tank. I wanted to keep that from happening."  
  
"And Shane, did you get the feeling from Silver that she saw me as a tank? Or as a conquest? Or as just a temporary fling?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"Do you honestly think she wanted me?"  
  
"I don't know, sir."  
  
"Well, I do. I found out last night, too late to do anything about it. Shane, she loves me. She loves me enough to send me to Earth so I could come back here to try and get myself killed along with the rest of you." McQueen realized he was clenching his fist and slowly lifted it up, staring at the blood in his palm.  
  
"How do you know, sir?"  
  
McQueen glanced up at 'Phousse. "The same way you do. What she left behind. She cares for all of you; despite the way we treated her at the end. She left me some of her most prized possessions. And then, there was something Adam said."  
  
"Where is Adam?" asked West. "No one's seen him since we got back."  
  
"I regret to say, he killed himself last night." As they sat in stunned silence, McQueen sighed. "He told me that she loved me. He was upset about the fact that he couldn't help her."  
  
"You were there?"  
  
"Yes, Coop. I was talking to him. He had a pistol in one hand and her cross in the other. When he had finished telling me what he needed to, he shot himself through his main memory core." McQueen knew that a great many people would be shocked to hear him referring to an AI as a person. But he truly believed that Adam had been a good AI.  
  
"But his other memory cores can take over. He could be restored," 'Phousse stated.  
  
McQueen shook his head. "He created a virus to wipe his memory cores. Adam did not want to live without Silver here." Looking at Shane, he asked softly, "Adam loved her as much as he could love a human. His death is our fault."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir." Shane lowered her gaze. "I just wanted to protect you."  
  
"Sir, you're bleeding."  
  
"Yes, Nathan. I know. It's a small price to pay. What's your reason, Nathan?"  
  
West fidgeted a minute. "Honestly?" When he saw McQueen's nod, he said, "I saw her as a threat to your position, sir."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"There isn't any other squadron who has two COs."  
  
"So, the Wild Cards are special."  
  
"So special that people try to assassinate us," muttered Hawkes.  
  
"Your turn will come, Cooper." McQueen looked at West. "You treated her badly because you thought she was trying to take my place."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"And what if I hadn't been able to return to space? I would have been locked to a desk back on Earth. Who would have led you then? Did you think about that?"  
  
"Shane would."  
  
McQueen shook his head. "You would have been reassigned to some other officer who most likely wouldn't put up with your antics. Did you think about that?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"If accepting her meant that I could stay, wasn't it worth doing?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"But still you didn't."  
  
"Not fully, sir."  
  
McQueen nodded once. "And when I was back, you didn't bother with her any more."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Cooper."  
  
"She wasn't you. How could she understand me?"  
  
McQueen sighed. Hawkes had been easy for him to reason out on his own. "She had an entire company of IVs, Cooper. She knew what it's like for us." He looked up at Phousse. "Your turn, Vanessa."  
  
"Sir, I felt a bit like Nathan and Shane. I mean, she obviously wanted you and it looked like she wanted your place."  
  
"So basically all of you are telling me that you were jealous of her. And considered her a threat to me. But none of you thought about her motives deeply enough. She told you all her position on the first night, didn't she?"  
  
"How did you know that, sir?" asked West.  
  
"When she revealed the regeneration option, she mentioned having talked to all of you about her plans. It wasn't like her to hold you in the dark. She had to wait until I would listen to her without throwing her through the wall." He managed a chuckle. "She told me that you were all suspicious of her motives and possibly jealous of her as well. She certainly hit that one on the head." McQueen rubbed the bloody marks in his palm.  
  
Shane rose. "Sir, you should treat -"  
  
"Shane, I don't need protection. I am able to survive any mistakes I make in a relationship. I may not survive what others do to me physically, but relationships won't destroy me. And folks, I think I want to try this relationship. If I can get her back alive. Will you help me?"  
  
Stiffening to attention, Shane said, "Yes, sir."  
  
One by one, the 58th stood and said, "Yes, sir."  
  
He waved them back into their seats. "I said I would give you my reason. It is quite simple and two fold. I was scared and I buried my fear under the joy of being back with you, whole. I allowed myself to focus on you and ignore her so I would not have to face my feelings about her. I havent had a lot of luck with people throughout my life, so I unconsciously decided to shut her out rather than take a chance. That's it in a nut shell."  
  
McQueen sighed softly, still rubbing his hand. "When we get her back, we have a lot of emotional baggage to cut through. Hope you're ready to deal with it." He straightened, resuming his role as CO. "Now, listen up. This is also a mission brief. Is anyone unable to fly?"  
  
"No, sir," was chorused back.  
  
"Good. At 1330, we will start patrolling the outer edge of this system." He had not been happy about finding that the 58th had drawn the duty.  
  
"Sir, will you be flying with us?" asked Shane.  
  
"Yes. Lt. Russell will be my wingman. Our objective is to scout and report any enemy movements. Do not fire unless attacked."  
  
"Damn. That takes all the fun out of it."  
  
McQueen allowed himself a quirk of a smile. "I know, Hawkes. But it is imperative that we gather information for the fleet. And return with it. The Hammerheads will be outfitted for a long patrol." He ignored the groans. Twelve to eighteen hours in a Hammerhead was not his idea of fun either especially now. "The furthest planet, Hades, is our starting point. Any questions?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"Dismissed." 


	6. Blood and Souls, Chapter Six

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17  
  
Warning: Slash.  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter Six  
  
McQueen pushed himself and the 58th hard over the next several months. He kept up the strict training schedule that Silver had initiated.  
  
He ended up getting massages from Russell after the young man had found him on the floor in the locker room after the rest had left, headed for bed. Russell had silently started working the thigh until the pain had stopped being so severe. Then he had lifted McQueen onto a massage table and really attacked the problem.  
  
McQueen had asked, "Why did you come back?"  
  
"Forgot something. Look, Silver mentioned that she had been giving you massages to help you sleep. Do you still need them?"  
  
The nightmares, re-enforcing the guilt McQueen felt, had kept him from sleeping more than two hours at stretch. It was starting to impair his ability to think clearly. "Yes," McQueen admitted grudgingly, hating to show weakness.  
  
"Well, I'm not Silver, but she taught me."  
  
"Are you volunteering?"  
  
Russell nodded.  
  
"Aren't the three of you..." McQueen changed his mind about the question. It was not his business, but it did disconcert him to have Russell alone. The trio were rarely seen apart.  
  
"The three of us?" Russell frowned, then shrugged. "I'm odd man out. They let me join in from time to time. But they are the couple. And hey, everyone needs some private time." Russell grinned, mischievously. "And I promise they'll be damned good massages."  
  
McQueen hesitated, before saying quietly, "All right."  
  
From then on, Russell usually stayed and waited for McQueen after the training sessions. He would accompany McQueen to his quarters and leave after the massage.  
  
McQueen was surprised by the number of people who asked the trio of singers for songs, especially in Tun Tavern.  
  
Every couple of weeks a letter arrived from Wang, written by a shaky hand, but done obviously with pride. Every letter showed improvement since Paul was still undergoing treatment and gaining more mobility every week. His recovery so far would not allow him to fly or be a grunt again, but he figured he might get a desk job if he wasn't mustered out.  
  
It saddened McQueen that the young man would never fly again, but at least Paul was alive and still officially a member of the 58th.  
  
****  
  
One night McQueen was relaxing with the commodore after the massage. Ross sat playing the blues on his guitar while McQueen listened, enjoying the sound.  
  
"Glen, do you have an alarm set?"  
  
"No. Why?" Concentrating on his playing, Ross heard nothing.  
  
"Because I hear something beeping."  
  
"Go ahead and find it." Ross continued concentrating on his playing.  
  
McQueen obeyed. After several minutes of intent listening, he tracked it down. A security optical disc in hand, he glanced up at Ross. "Sir?" He had never seen a disc with a built-in beeper.  
  
It brought Ross out of his playing. He saw the disc in McQueen's hand and the blood drained from his features.  
  
"Glen? What is it? What is this disc?"  
  
"It's time for extraction. She said the disc would not decode until the three months were up." With a sigh, Ross stood up. His hand trembled as he reached out to take the disc. "Let's see where she is."  
  
Ross pushed his chair away from his desk several minutes later, aghast.  
  
Behind him, McQueen sank down into a chair, ashen faced. "My God! It really was a suicide mission."  
  
"I promised her I would send an extraction team."  
  
"I'll go, sir. Alone if I have to. I'll make it a volunteer only mission." McQueen dropped his head into his hands. "Two worm holes and an additional fifty hours behind the current front line. Three months ago, it was seventy two hours."  
  
"No wonder she called it crossing the River Styx." Ross shook his head.  
  
"How long do I have to finalize the mission?" McQueen forced himself to sit up right, back straight.  
  
"To make the target date, thirty six hours." Ross removed the disc. "Here. Plan the operation. When you've figured it out, fill me in."  
  
Taking the disc, McQueen headed for the door with a heavy heart. "I'll see you in the morning."  
  
Ross merely nodded.  
  
Despite the lateness of the hour, McQueen went to the briefing room he usually used for the 58th squadron. He started working on the plan.  
  
****  
  
The 58th filed into the briefing room at 0800 for a mission briefing that McQueen had informed them of the previous afternoon. To their surprise, McQueen was slumped over the desk, asleep.  
  
Gently, Hawkes shook McQueen's shoulder, ready to jump back.  
  
McQueen woke instantly. "0800 already? Last I knew it was 0600. Guess two hours of sleep will have to do. Sit down. Give me a moment." McQueen rose and went to the head. There he splashed water on his face and raked his wet fingers through his hair. Gazing at his reflection, he winced at the bloodshot eyes.  
  
"You look like Hell, McQueen. And you have to go in and tell those kids about a suicide mission you've already volunteered for. Good luck."  
  
The 58th stood up as McQueen entered, looking slightly more presentable and definitely awake. Instead of activating the holo-vid to begin their briefing, he perched on the desk.  
  
"Sit down. All right, listen up. The mission you thought I was going to tell you about has been scrapped. The new mission is called Operation Mithril and involves the extraction of Lt. Col. Silver."  
  
"Then it's time, sir?" asked Russell.  
  
"Yes. The disc decoded last night."  
  
"How long do we have to prepare?"  
  
"Twenty-seven hours, Finch. I'm only taking volunteers for this mission."  
  
Finch, Russell, and St. John immediately rose. "We volunteer, sir."  
  
"You haven't heard the details."  
  
"Don't need to. We can guess from previous ops we've done. Deep in enemy territory, no back up, tight dead line. That sum it up, sir?"  
  
"How many extractions like this have you done, St. John?"  
  
"Twelve."  
  
"All right. I would appreciate any input you have."  
  
"We will tell you everything we can, sir. We want to bring her home." Finch looked McQueen square in the face. "You figure out how to get us there and back, and we'll tell you what to expect on the ground."  
  
"Fair enough." McQueen studied the rest of the squadron. "I'm not expecting you to volunteer without knowing the score. When I'm done, then I'll give you some time to think it over."  
  
"Sir," Hawkes stood up. "I'm volunteering."  
  
Slowly, West rose. "And me, sir."  
  
Damphousse sighed as she joined them. "Count me in, sir."  
  
They all paused, but Vansen made no effort to rise.  
  
"Very well." McQueen nodded, understanding that Vansen still had to decide. "Sit down. I'll accept, on the condition that you have twelve hours to change your mind. After that, you are committed to the mission. Is that understood?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Straightening, McQueen walked to the door and locked it. "This information is compartmentalized. The only other person who will know any details is the commodore." He strode up to the holo-vid and activated it, missing the sight of Russell, Finch and St. John touching their right temples.  
  
A star chart of the region appeared. McQueen used the holograph control wand and tapped a tiny dot, expanding it into a star system with seven planets. "West, Hawkes, Vansen, you'll be flying Hammerheads. The rest of us will be in an ISSAPC. This is our goal. The system has been designated Loki. After two wormhole transitions we will arrive in the nearest star system. We will then fly the rest of the way. Transitioning directly into the Loki system would most likely put us right in the middle of Chig forces."  
  
"Sir," 'Phousse sat up straight, calculating distances in her head. "That's over two days travel, sir!"  
  
"Fifty two hours to be exact."  
  
"Oh, great. Fifty hours in a Hammerhead pit," groused Hawkes.  
  
"You don't have to go, Lieutenant." Ice formed on the words.  
  
"I'm going, sir."  
  
McQueen nodded once. "Our target world is number four, Baldur. A nitrogen oxygen atmosphere. Heavy in inert gases."  
  
"Sir?" West raised his hand. "Any idea why this system is so interesting?"  
  
"Nothing that I've been able to dig up. The third and fifth planets have Chig atmospheres. And the spooks speculate there may be at least four bases in the system.  
  
"So we need to avoid the Chig patrols if we're to get to Baldur." McQueen tapped the image of Baldur. "The spooks can only tell us that there are three main continents, two moons smaller than Luna, and that the dominant cover is forest. Finding a place to land will be a problem."  
  
McQueen turned his back on the display. "I want full combat gear, packs and weapons. Our departure time is 1045 hours tomorrow morning. We do not know if there is a Chig base on Baldur, but I would prefer to be prepared. Once we are in flight, we will be in complete radio silence with the rest of the fleet. The Hammerheads and the transport will have a special point-to-point radio system installed. It does not extend beyond visual range. So don't wander off, pilots."  
  
McQueen waited until he saw all three Hammerhead pilots nod. "Once we have Col. Silver and her data recorder, we will still need to evade patrols to get out of the system. When we reach this position," he tapped on the edge of the system they were currently in, "we will download information from a buoy left by the Saratoga informing us of rendezvous coordinates."  
  
Moving around to the front of the desk, McQueen leaned against it, setting the pointer down. "That's the plan, 5-8." He looked at Russell. "Your turn."  
  
As Russell and the other two rose, McQueen took a seat with the rest of the squadron. Russell gave McQueen a look of surprise, and then collected himself. "Captain Vansen, I need to know if you are going on this extraction. If you are opting out, please leave."  
  
Vansen hesitated. "I am with you."  
  
"I'm afraid, sir, I must terminate your twelve hour window."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It's either that or hold this briefing in twelve hours. Only those people who are committed to the mission may receive the highly compartmentalized information. We received permission, shortly after Silver left, to inform the members of the 58th who are going on the extraction. This information is so ultra secret you don't talk about it, you don't write it down, you don't think about it, you don't dream about it. If they suspect you of disclosing it unauthorized, they will kill you."  
  
Russell saw Hawkes smirking. "I am completely serious, Hawkes. We had a Lieutenant Hawthorne in the 1-10 who actually wrote down some of the information so he could review it. He was discovered in his bunk, throat cut. The higher powers control this information."  
  
"I am going," stated McQueen quietly. "We can postpone your portion of the briefing."  
  
"Sir, I'm in. Nothing they can say will change my mind," Hawkes said. "I intend to bring back a member of this squad."  
  
McQueen rose and glanced at the rest of the squadron. "I will leave the decision up to you. Do you need to think about the situation or are you ready for the briefing now?"  
  
"Count me in, sir," West stated.  
  
"And me, sir," 'Phousse nodded.  
  
With a sigh, Vansen said, "Let's get it over with, sir."  
  
"Very good, 5-8." McQueen resumed his seat. "Continue, Russell."  
  
"Yes, sir. All right. In addition to the point to point transmitters, there is one other modification that we," Russell gestured at Finch and St. John, "will be making to our ships."  
  
"What kind?" asked West.  
  
"We will need to find a passive beacon. This means that WE have to broadcast a certain signal and pray that the beacon responds. But the passive beacon only scans an area of roughly three hundred miles. Once we get an acknowledgment from the beacon, we then have to get it to beep us twice more so that we can triangulate on it. We can narrow our search to the higher elevations since the beacon needs some height. That still leaves a lot of territory to cover. Once we find a place to land, assuming we aren't shot out of the sky," Russell grinned at Finch, "which is a real bitch when you don't have any back up, then we still have to slog our way to the beacon. Then we have to find out where Silver is, assuming that she doesn't find us first."  
  
"How was Col. Silver supposed to collect her data?" asked Phousse.  
  
"The moons. She will stay on a moon for an extended period, recording all transmissions, movements, and activity in the system. Her Hammerhead is a special design. If badly damaged, the data recorder and Silver will be jettisoned, if in an atmosphere. If that occurs, there's no telling where she is."  
  
"So what makes this all so hush hush?" asked West.  
  
"One, the fact that they actually send people this far into enemy territory. It's something the brass really does not want to get out. Two, the actual method of the information gathering. And third, well, I'll tell you that one once we're actually on our way. It'll be safer that way."  
  
"Doesn't seem it needs to be all that secretive." West frowned.  
  
Russell shrugged. "That's the way the Powers That Be want it. I'm not going to argue, especially since they're willing to kill to keep it that way. I like living, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Reason enough?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Russell grinned. "Now, Colonel, you need to arrange for the Hammerheads and the ISSAPC to be completely isolated, preferably in an ISSCV bay. The three who are flying the Hammerheads will have to land them on the landing pad with the transport. At least two members of the squad will remain with our ships at all times until we leave the Saratoga."  
  
"You think someone might sabotage the mission?" McQueen's gaze narrowed.  
  
"It is quite possible, sir. Or they might plant transmitters or other little surprises. I've already lived once through an ambush someone so thoughtfully arranged by securing a transmitter to our transport. I don't intend to go through that hell again. It was sheer luck that we survived. I won't count on that kind of luck again."  
  
"I'll arrange it."  
  
"Once we've swept the ships and made sure that there are no little surprises waiting for us, up to and including a new download of the computer's programming, everyone will stow their gear on board the transport."  
  
McQueen nodded.  
  
"Then the last thing is that everyone report to our ships by no later than 0900 hours." Russell forestalled the protests. "The alternative is that we go into complete isolation from this moment on. The early time is so that we can insure our safety as a group by scanning, and making sure no surprises have been planted on us or in us. Anything that is found will be neutralized."  
  
Rising, McQueen looked each member of the squad in the eyes. "I personally would prefer to spend my last night before this mission in my bed. Anyone want to spend it in the transport?"  
  
Everyone shook their heads.  
  
"Vansen, make up a schedule for guarding our ships. I want it on my desk in one hour."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"All right. Dismissed."  
  
McQueen watched the squadron filter out. He sat down and gathered together all the information he had collected. With a sigh, he rose to talk to Ross. He wished Silver could banish the nagging headache that had started during his part of the briefing.  
  
****  
  
By that night, McQueen had a full-blown headache that would not let him even contemplated relaxing. So he went to check on the 58th. Quietly entering their barracks, he was puzzled to find Hawkes', Finch's, St. John's and Russell's bunks empty. Phousse and West were on guard duty. He slipped inside the shower room, thinking that at least one of them was in there.  
  
They were all there and the sight that greeted McQueen brought him to a standstill. Hawkes stood, still wet from a shower, water droplets on his sculpted fine body reflecting in the light. St. John kissed Hawkes, turning his head to the side and caressing the smooth skin. Kneeling before Hawkes, Finch deep throated him, her hands kneading and caressing. Moving smoothly in and out of Hawkes was Russell.  
  
Hawkes opened his eyes and he saw McQueen. With a welcoming smile, he reached out to the colonel.  
  
Shaking his head slightly, McQueen turned on his heel and fled the scene with as much dignity as he could manage.  
  
"There's a man who seriously needs to get laid," McQueen heard Russell remark before the shower room door closed.  
  
In his quarters, McQueen sat on his bed, head in his hands, rubbing futilely at his temples. The fact that Hawkes trusted the three enough for them to all have their way with him, in an odd way pleased him. He knew Hawkes did not just give his body away. On the streets of Philadelphia, Hawkes had been subjected to gang rapes and worse even as he, himself, had extremely bad memories about similar situations from the mines.  
  
He had fled the sex filled scene because of his own reaction to it. Six months ago, Silver had given him a brief sexual relief and it had been six months before that for the last time. But his self-discipline demanded that he not seek relief with his hands.  
  
With a groan, McQueen went to his desk, intent on burying the sexual demon with work. He unlaced his boots and kicked them to the side.  
  
After fifteen minutes, he was forced to admit defeat and thought that running or exercising himself into exhaustion just might do the trick.  
  
Someone knocked on his hatch. "Who's at my hatch?"  
  
"Lt. Hawkes, sir," came the low answer.  
  
McQueen did not want to deal with the lieutenant now. "Go to bed, Hawkes."  
  
"Let me in, sir. Or I will start raising my voice."  
  
With a sigh, McQueen rose and undogged the hatch. "Come in."  
  
Hawkes entered and locked the hatch behind him. He met the colonel's narrowed gaze with a guileless smile. "Sir, I've come to give you something."  
  
"And what might that be, lieutenant?"  
  
Hawkes pushed the slightly smaller man back against the wall, tilted McQueen's head up and kissed him thoroughly. McQueen froze for precious seconds, shocked, and Hawkes took advantage. He unzipped McQueen's flight suit to the waist and peeled it back over the older man's shoulders to below the elbow, effectively preventing McQueen from fighting him. With his legs, Hawkes spread McQueen's just enough to keep him from a shot to the groin.  
  
"You taste so damn good, sir," Hawkes muttered as he started nibbling down McQueen's throat.  
  
"No!" McQueen managed hoarsely.  
  
Ignoring the command, Hawkes picked McQueen up and carried him over to the bed, settling him down on his back. Hawkes stood between McQueen's legs and leaned over his superior officer, kissing him again.  
  
Struggling, McQueen managed to turn away from the kiss. "No! Don't do this!"  
  
"Sh, sir." Hawkes placed a hand on McQueen's groin and grinned at the evidence that McQueen would want what he had to offer. "Sh. Relax. I'm just here to give you a good fucking."  
  
The images that phrasing produced rolled through McQueen's mind, and he could feel himself panicking. "No! Not that!" He thrashed violently on the bed, trying desperately to get away.  
  
Taken aback by McQueen's reaction, Hawkes reviewed his statement. Realizing that McQueen thought that he, Hawkes, was going to give it, Hawkes swore. He grabbed McQueen's head with both hands, forcing McQueen to look at him. "Dammit, sir, that's not what I meant. I would never hurt you, sir. I said it badly. I'm sorry, sir." When McQueen still struggled, Hawkes kissed McQueen, gently, trying to show he meant it.  
  
McQueen slowly stilled, breathing hard when Hawkes finally stopped the kiss.  
  
"What I meant, sir, was that I want you to fuck me." Hawkes was on his elbows, looking down into McQueen's face and he saw the panic slowly fade. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to scare you. I want to give you pleasure for an hour, to let you get some release. And I'm not going to take no for an answer. I'm doing it, even if I have to get you started myself. Trust me, I won't hurt you."  
  
Hawkes slid a hand up under the white turtleneck shirt and started toying with one of McQueen's nipples. McQueen's gasp pleased him.  
  
"Now, move your hands under your ass and leave them there. Stop fighting me, sir. I intend to make you feel very good. I've been learning from Russell and them for the last month."  
  
Both hands under the turtleneck, Hawkes saw his order had not been followed. "Do what I say, sir, or I'll pull the shirt up over your face and leave it there."  
  
Not wanting to lose his sight or, oddly enough, the ability to be kissed, McQueen slid his hands into the required position.  
  
As a reward, Hawkes pushed the turtleneck up the scarred chest and started sucking on a nipple while playing with the other. McQueen moaned.  
  
"Very good, sir. Doesn't that feel good?" Hawkes blew gently across the wet nipple  
  
Bucking, McQueen moaned again.  
  
"I want a verbal answer, sir."  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Hawkes kissed McQueen again, deeply, tasting with his tongue all the hidden places. He smiled, satisfied, when he saw how passion darkened McQueen's eyes had become. "Here's the rules, sir. I'm going to pleasure you and you are going to obey my orders until I give myself to you. Then I will trust you not to hurt me. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes," whispered McQueen, touched by the last statement.  
  
"Do you agree to this?"  
  
Wanting to be touched, wanting to touch, desperate for some sexual release, McQueen answered, "Yes."  
  
"Good. And you will return control back to me after you come."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Smiling, Hawkes rolled to the side slightly, just enough to be able to unzip his own flight suit to the waist. He shrugged out of it, letting it fall to his waist, then kicked off his boots, which had only been barely laced. "I didn't want to have to waste time unlacing them. I want to feel your skin against mine, sir," he explained, pushing his tank top up.  
  
As Hawkes rubbed chest to chest, McQueen could feel himself harden further. It was all he could manage to say; "I think if we're going to do this, you better call me something besides sir for the next hour."  
  
"What shall I call you?" Hawkes laved McQueen's throat with long leisurely licks.  
  
Breath hitching in his throat, McQueen said, "TC will do."  
  
"All right, TC. Then I'm Coop. Now, I'm going to release your hands from the sleeves. Put them back where they are now."  
  
"Yes, Coop." McQueen forced himself to make the mental adjustment to having Hawkes order him. Until Hawkes said differently, McQueen was the subordinate. He knew he could trust Hawkes to not hurt him.  
  
Both flight suits went to the floor, leaving McQueen clad only in a white turtleneck and khaki shorts and Hawkes in khaki shorts and tank top. After driving McQueen mad with licks, nibbles, kisses and nipple sucking, Hawkes rose onto his knees. "Let's get rid of the shirt, TC."  
  
Obediently, McQueen pulled the turtleneck over his head and tossed it to the floor. Instead of returning his hands to beneath him, McQueen ran them up under the tank top, reveling in the smooth muscles. He pinched one of Hawkes' nipples and smiled at the groan.  
  
"Oh, yeah, that feels good." Hawkes allowed McQueen to play with him for several minutes. "Now, roll over." He tugged McQueen's shorts down and off and then his own.  
  
McQueen tried not to stiffen when Hawkes settled down on his back for a moment. He could feel Hawkes' erection resting between his buttocks. He knew if Hawkes decided to, it would be easy for the younger man to penetrate him.  
  
"Relax. I'm not going to do anything, TC. Once you relax, I will continue." Hawkes slid a hand under McQueen's chest and toyed with a nipple.  
  
Slowly, McQueen relaxed, giving Hawkes full control again.  
  
Still playing with McQueen's nipple, Hawkes slid his lower body off McQueen and lowered his mouth to the raised neck navel. Running his tongue lightly across it caused McQueen to gasp and shudder. Hawkes sucked hard.  
  
McQueen felt liquid fire burn through his body as he bucked under Hawkes' expert sucking and tonguing. He was helpless to control any part of his body or mind as his body ignited. Hands clenching the bed, McQueen could only ride the fabulous sensations. When Hawkes eased up and stopped, McQueen lay still, breathing hard, wondering if he had actually screamed.  
  
"I think I'll take that as a good thing," Hawkes murmured in his ear. "Have you had a good time so far, TC?"  
  
"Yes, Coop."  
  
"Good. I wanted you to. Roll over." Hawkes kissed McQueen hard, hands cupping the firm hard buttocks beneath him. "Now, how do you want me?"  
  
It took McQueen several seconds to make the transition to being the one in charge. "On the bed, hands and knees."  
  
Hawkes grinned and let McQueen up. "There's lube in my flight suit. Lower right pocket."  
  
McQueen found it and used it. He caressed the young hard ass before him before slowly entering. At first, he tried to go slow, but Hawkes was having none of it. Hawkes thrust back onto him in a faster rhythm and soon McQueen found himself going hard and fast. He pulled Hawkes up and sucked on his navel, still driving home hard. The young body in his arms writhed, gasping for breath.  
  
But it had been too long and McQueen came with a strangled shout. He released Hawkes and fell forward onto the young IV who let him stay there for a moment. Eyes closed, McQueen felt himself being rolled onto his back, still hard.  
  
Hawkes went to the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth and a bottle that he set on the floor. He cleaned McQueen, and then smiled down at the older IV. "We're not done yet, TC."  
  
McQueen learned that what Hawkes had done to him earlier only allowed him to spiral higher with pleasure. Engineered for endurance and high sexual abilities, IV males could manage four or five orgasms in a row. It had been years since McQueen had even tried for two.  
  
"Hands behind your head. Keep them there." Hawkes leaned over and retrieved the bottle and opened it.  
  
The sandalwood scent reached McQueen's nose and he knew Hawkes had found his massage oil. Hand warmed oil caressed his skin as Hawkes worked it in, touch lightening sometimes to caresses, enough to keep McQueen hard. The oil went all the way to his toes.  
  
Hawkes sat back between McQueen's parted thighs and surveyed his efforts with a grin. Eyes closed, McQueen lay quietly under him, passive, waiting for the next move. He started running his fingers lightly over the pale skin, quickly finding the right pressure so that his touch did not tickle. Soon McQueen started to twist and pant, struggling to remain passive, to not seize control. And Hawkes hadn't gone below the hips yet.  
  
"Do I need to restrain you?"  
  
The soft question stilled McQueen effectively. "No."  
  
"Good. I don't want to. I want to see you dance under my fingers."  
  
Skin quivered and rippled as Hawkes caressed the hollows of the narrow hips. He ran his fingers down each leg, touching, caressing, and striving to make McQueen loose control. Bringing his hands back up, Hawkes brushed ever so lightly across the tight sacs.  
  
McQueen arched, an incoherent moan escaping.  
  
With a smile, Hawkes dipped a finger in the pre-cum leaking from McQueen's hard cock. He sucked his finger, making sure McQueen saw him, and smiled as McQueen moaned. More pre-cum on his finger, Hawkes leaned up and held his finger above McQueen's lips.  
  
"Do it, TC."  
  
McQueen lifted his head and sucked Hawkes' finger into his mouth, sucking it as if it were a cock, tongue swirling around it.  
  
"Good, TC. Do not come, TC." Hawkes removed his finger.  
  
His forearms holding McQueen's hips down against the bed, Hawkes lowered his head and sucked McQueen's cock head into his mouth. McQueen bucked madly as Hawkes suckled on him, like a baby at its mother's breast. Then Hawkes used his tongue on the slit, in and out, in and out, fucking it like McQueen would be doing to him soon. It took all of his strength and leverage to keep McQueen on the bed while he plied McQueen with exquisite torture. McQueen tasted delicious to him and Hawkes took the next step. He deep throated McQueen in one swift move and felt the convulsive thrust his own weight thwarted. McQueen's pleadings, unfinished, were music to Hawkes' ears and he repeatedly deep throated McQueen.  
  
Only when Hawkes knew McQueen could not control the mindless attempts his body made to fuck the mouth torturing him did Hawkes stop. With a strangled sob of frustration, McQueen thrashed on the bed under Hawkes.  
  
Grinning with delight at McQueen's response, Hawkes asked, "Where do you want me, TC?"  
  
It took McQueen a moment to respond. He rolled off the bed and stood up shakily. "Against the wall," McQueen growled. He intended to show Hawkes not to underestimate him. With the younger IV flat against the wall facing it, McQueen positioned himself and thrust in.  
  
Hawkes groaned and arched his back into McQueen.  
  
"Legs behind mine," ordered McQueen. He held Hawkes' hips and pushed him up the wall slightly until he was satisfied with the depth of his thrusts. Then he started a slow rhythm, gradually increasing speed. Meanwhile, he sucked lightly on Hawkes' neck navel.  
  
Thrashing wildly, Hawkes shoved his forearm into his mouth to stifle his pleasure-induced screams. The friction of rubbing against the wall and the fast movement across his prostate in addition to the sucking on his navel eventually brought Hawkes over.  
  
Hawkes' climax tightened his muscles and it was too much for McQueen to resist. Mouth over Hawkes' navel, McQueen screamed as his orgasm rocketed through him. Sheer willpower alone gave McQueen the strength to walk over to the bed and drop Hawkes on it before he collapsed beside the young man. Both breathed hard.  
  
"Man, that was good," grinned Hawkes, tired.  
  
"I agree."  
  
"Do you feel better now?" Hawkes gathered his strength and the washcloth and staggered into the bathroom.  
  
McQueen realized he did. "Yes."  
  
"I'm afraid the hour is up." Hawkes returned and cleaned up McQueen with firm sure strokes. After cleaning the mess he had made on the wall, he dressed McQueen in the shorts and glanced around, looking for a tank top or something besides the white turtleneck.  
  
"Foot locker. Left side." McQueen sat up slowly. "With luck I'll actually get some sleep." He took the tank top Hawkes handed him and slipped it on.  
  
"Be a good idea. An ISSAPC is not the most comfortable thing to sleep in."  
  
"Are you going to bed?"  
  
"Not exactly, sir. I think we're going to ambush Shane when her nightmares wake her. She needs a good lay like you did."  
  
"Don't force her, Hawkes."  
  
"We won't. And maybe she'll stop being such a pain in the ass." Hawkes grinned.  
  
As Hawkes started for the door, McQueen said, "Hawkes... Coop."  
  
"Yes?" Hawkes faced him.  
  
"Thank you. I appreciate the gift. I know what it meant."  
  
A million watt smile lit Hawkes' face and he stepped back over to McQueen. "One last kiss?"  
  
Knowing that they would never again do this while in the same chain of command, McQueen allowed himself the pleasure of kissing Hawkes one last time. A deep satisfying kiss that McQueen finished.  
  
"You know, it's a good thing Col. Silver and I sound proofed your quarters while you were gone."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Yeah. She found some stuff to do it with and we did it between missions. We didn't look in anything, just made sure we put everything back the way it had been. We knew you would never do it yourself, so we did it for you. She said you were still having nightmares about the AIs. We tested the job by my screaming in here while she stood next door. She said she could just barely hear me."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"  
  
"I never really thought about it until now."  
  
Shaking his head, McQueen said, "Hawkes, sometimes you amaze me."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Nothing. Good night, Hawkes."  
  
"Good night, sir. Get some sleep."  
  
"I think I will."  
  
****  
  
At 0830, after a good night's sleep, McQueen entered the landing bay that Ross had allowed him to commandeer for the mission's ships. He found most of the squad already there. The only one missing was West.  
  
A few minutes later, West trotted in. He grinned and said, "I had to finish a letter to Kylen. A just in case type."  
  
"Let's get scanned, people." McQueen watched as Russell approached, a small unit in his hand.  
  
One by one, Russell ran the scanner over every member of the squadron. At least one or two devices were found per person, including Russell. Once satisfied with the destruction of any spying devices, Russell tossed the scanner to Finch who stowed it in her gear. "We've already gone over the gear. Now, for your information, Colonel, that headache you probably were suffering from yesterday, sorry, it was our fault. We activated a Soul's Eye disabler in the briefing room once you told us what the mission was. It works for eighteen hours. Didn't want anyone able to download any of the information."  
  
"What about on the mission?" McQueen did not relish the idea of the mission being downloaded from his mind by some thrill-seeking bureaucrat. Implanted shortly after birth, the Soul's Eye recorded everything that was seen by the IV.  
  
Finch tossed a pair of small chips in her hand. "These babies will do the job. They're special bio-chips. Place them over your right temple and they'll embed themselves leaving no marks. They're currently set to disable the Soul's Eye." She tossed one to Hawkes and McQueen. "Painless and no headache, guaranteed."  
  
"And if at some point we decide to reactivate it?" asked McQueen, placing the chip to his temple. "It can be useful from time to time."  
  
"Yeah, I know. Press it three times for three seconds, a second between each time. Eleven seconds and it is reactivated."  
  
Hawkes set the chip in place. "Where did you get these?"  
  
"You don't want to know, Hawkes. I'd have to kill you."  
  
The mock seriousness in St. Johns voice did not hide the deadly light in the young IVs eyes. McQueen knew that the statement was truth. "We don't need to know."  
  
"Colonel, there's one more thing we need to tell you before we head out." Finch shivered. "We're glad you're coming with us. Otherwise, there would be no point to the extraction."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, sir, on deep missions like this one, each agent picks one person to fixate on as their release from the mission. Until they actually see that person, they will continue the mission."  
  
"Are you saying Silver picked me?"  
  
"Silver always left a token to indicate whom she had selected. Usually it was one of the three of us. But this time..." Finch reached into a pocket on her flight suit and pulled out a dark flat object.  
  
McQueen caught it as she tossed it to him. Just by feel, he knew it was a patch and the rectangular shape warned him. Even so, seeing the gold outstretched wings around a white halo with a red lightening bolt through it made his throat constrict. The Angry Angels. The 127th. His former unit. All dead, except for him, forever disbanded. He could tell the patch had never been on a uniform, but someone had frequently rubbed it between fingers, until the threads were worn.  
  
"There's only one Angry Angel left alive."  
  
He nodded at Russell's statement. Wishing to get the patch out of sight, McQueen slid it into a pocket.  
  
"West, Hawkes, Vansen, your gear is just inside the transport's door. Take whatever you want in your ships. We'll stow the rest." Finch stretched.  
  
With a nod, West retrieved his equipment, sorted through it and headed for his Hammerhead.  
  
Hawkes followed Vansen in. Finch watched Vansen with a satisfied look.  
  
Softly, McQueen asked, "Hawkes said you were planning on ambushing Shane."  
  
"We did."  
  
"She does look more relaxed."  
  
"We want to do the same for 'Phousse."  
  
"What about West?"  
  
"There's always the trip back."  
  
"I'll be piloting first."  
  
Finch grinned.  
  
****  
  
By 1045, the 58th were ready to fly.  
  
"Queen 6, this is 'Toga Control. You are cleared for launch."  
  
"Roger, 'Toga Control."  
  
"Good luck, Queen 6."  
  
"Acknowledged, Boss Ross."  
  
McQueen eased the transport off the landing bay deck and moved it toward the opening bay doors. Following on his heels were the three Hammerheads.  
  
Once out into space, McQueen set the course and activated the point-to- point radio. "All right, Jack, King and Queen, let's move out."  
  
Ten minutes into the flight, McQueen heard Phousse gasp out, "What do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Making you feel good," answered Finch.  
  
"But the colonel-"  
  
"Is flying this bird." McQueen could hear Russell's grin.  
  
"But we're on a mission!"  
  
"It'll be a long fifty hours," drawled Finch.  
  
"But- oh, that feels good."  
  
"Shall we continue?" asked St. John.  
  
"Yes."  
  
McQueen shut the cockpit hatch quietly.  
  
****  
  
Four hours and two worm holes later, having turned the flying over to Phousse, McQueen asked Finch, "Why me?"  
  
"Best to ask the whole question, sir. Why did she go on a virtual suicide mission and choose you as her fixture?"  
  
"I don't get to her, she dies, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So it's a test. A deadly one. Do I care enough to come and get her or do I leave her to die?"  
  
"Sir, I think you need to be aware of a few other facts. We didn't want the entire squad to know this information. Especially Vansen. Most folks have a hard time with what we have to tell you. The real problem is going to be finding her and dealing with her. Her Hammerhead did not carry three months worth of food. So, she's been hunting and by now, she's been ranging far and wide to find enough food. And when we finally find her, she's going to be one pissed off colonel. Especially toward you, sir."  
  
"She might hand you your head, sir," stated St. John. "Which one is the question."  
  
"Or she could break every bone in your body, throw you out and tell you to go to Hell." Finch frowned slightly. "She's been known to do that."  
  
"Or she just might kill you outright." St. John shrugged. "Have to say it, sir. You better be prepared for just such a reaction."  
  
McQueen nodded. They were serious, not kidding. "Why?'  
  
"Because of what she is, colonel. She's not exactly human and she most definitely isn't one of us. Nor is she a tank brat." Finch met McQueen's curious gaze. "To all appearances, Silver is human. She was born thirty- five years ago to her parents. But, then they aren't quite human either. You met her father and brothers. What struck you about them, colonel?"  
  
"Predators. I've never met doctors like them before."  
  
"And Silver?"  
  
"Even more so. A predator trying not to scare away the prey. Leashed violence." McQueen pinned Russell with a hard look. "What is she?'  
  
"In a word?" Russell grinned. "Vampire."  
  
"But she's a living breathing person."  
  
"I'm amazed that you know the legend. You're full of surprises, colonel. Yes, she's flesh and blood, a living breathing entity. Not something undead. And horny as hell."  
  
McQueen gave Russell a do-tell' look.  
  
"Vampires are creatures of sex and blood. They drink blood, the life source, and they crave sex. Imagine if you will, colonel, if when you were born, every time you had water, you had sex, never one without the other. What would happen?"  
  
"You become incapable of having one without the other. You have to have them together."  
  
"Which can you painfully learn to live without?"  
  
"The sex, but the craving will never go away."  
  
"For Silver, instead of water, it is blood, or rather life force, that she can't live without. But she prefers to have sex with it."  
  
The long hours that the three were missing from their barracks at night made sense. "You were her source aboard the Toga."  
  
"Yes. It was a lot easier in the 110th. There were fifteen of us to bear the burden of keeping her at full strength and we were never drained very far. It's been a lot harder with the 58th. She'd been on half rations for the entire time on the Toga and then took off to a place where what she needs to survive is at best, scarce. See if she has to, Silver can feed off animals for the blood, but it is not as nourishing or as fulfilling or as satisfying. So, she's going to be one pissed off-"  
  
"Hungry predator on the lookout for me in particular. Do you seriously think she'll attack me?" McQueen forced himself to look at the three.  
  
"No doubt about it. Just hope she hasn't been injured. The worse the injuries, the closer to the edge she'll be. It once took me three weeks to recover," admitted Russell.  
  
"So if I come for her, she'll hurt me or possibly kill me. If I don't come for her, she dies."  
  
"Or you come for her, she damn near kills you and she still dies." St. John leaned against the wall.  
  
"Brutal choices." McQueen shook his head. "How do I get the option to save her and the rest of us?"  
  
"A very brutal choice, sir. You don't fight her, especially if she's injured. Allow her to vent her rage at you, break a few bones, and then, well, let's say, we'll give you some privacy." Finch waved her hand in the air suggestively.  
  
"She'll take me in any case, correct?"  
  
"Sir, she won't be in control. The hunger will. The worse her injuries, the longer it will take her to regain control. If you're lucky, she'll avoid drinking you dry." When McQueen stared at her, Finch said, "It's a possibility. She's come close, too close a couple of times."  
  
McQueen could see a rabid Silver taking him apart before using him as a drinking fountain and a handy sex tool. Somehow, this didn't strike him as how Silver had wanted to get him into her bed. "I take it that she had hoped to seduce me before something like this came up."  
  
"Most definitely. But Danson threw a monkey wrench into her plans." Finch sighed. "She's been mooning over you at least since you joined the Angry Angels. I know she followed everything about you since then."  
  
"That long?" McQueen fingered the pocket he had slipped the patch into. "All right, the worst the injuries, the harder she's going to come after me."  
  
Russell nodded.  
  
"So after she's fed some, what next?"  
  
"We hopefully find out where the data recorder is. We collect the recorder and get the hell out of there."  
  
"I need to think."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
McQueen stood and started to go to the cockpit. He realized that Damphousse had probably heard the entire conversation through the open hatch. With a sigh, he slipped into the co-pilot seat, staring out at the stars.  
  
"Ask," he said several silent minutes later.  
  
"Do you believe them?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Are you going to do what they suggest?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Are you... afraid?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Which scenario do you think is most likely?"  
  
"With our luck, the worst case. Do the others know?"  
  
"Ah, yes. I was talking to them when I heard you asking Finch why you."  
  
"Thanks for the honesty. I don't want to talk about it right now. I need to think, all right?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
McQueen turned his gaze out the window and fixed his eyes on a single star. As he ran through all the information that the three had given him, McQueen heard Phousse quietly talking, telling the Hammerheads not to bother him right now. He knew he should talk to them now, but he had to deal with it first.  
  
Half an hour later, McQueen took the co-pilot's head set and opened the channel to the Hammerheads. "One at a time, please."  
  
"I think I'm missing something here, sir," declared Hawkes, cutting off Vansen. "Silver's going to beat you up, severely hurt you and then what? Have sex with you? And then expect you to rescue her?"  
  
"That's a fair summary."  
  
"What ever for? I mean, even I know you don't beat some one up and then expect them to be nice to you."  
  
"It's all right, Hawkes. It's enough that I understand the reasoning. Don't worry. I don't intend to let her kill me."  
  
"This is all in bad taste, sir. I think they're having you on." Vansen's voice was cold.  
  
"Captain, I don't think so." McQueen wished he could put his feet up.  
  
"It's all a bunch of nonsense."  
  
"Invitroes were a bunch of nonsense only fifty years ago. Who's to say that vampires haven't existed? There's a lot of folk lore that have some sort of vampire in them."  
  
Vansen's voice held a lot of hostility. "I think it's a trick. They're a bunch of tricksters."  
  
"Didn't like the one they played on you this morning?" he snapped back.  
  
Vansen inhaled sharply.  
  
"Look, captain, I need you on this mission. I'm going and it's my life that is truly at stake once we find her. Let's find out if they are telling the truth before you start calling names."  
  
When Vansen didn't respond, McQueen sighed. "West. What do you have to say?"  
  
"Are you sure about this, sir?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then I'm with you. I think she'll be good for you. She knows how to keep you in line."  
  
McQueen chuckled softly. "Yes."  
  
"I'm switching to autopilot and going to try to take a nap. Talk to you later."  
  
"Hawkes."  
  
"I'm with you, colonel."  
  
"Thanks. Vansen?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
'Phousse shut down the radio. "Let me talk to her, sir. What trick did they play on her?"  
  
Standing up, McQueen said, quietly, "A similar one to the one they played on you a while ago."  
  
"Oh, I bet that pissed her off. But she definitely needed to get laid."  
  
"That was their opinion as well."  
  
"And yourself, sir?"  
  
"I'm fine. And as long as it doesn't get out of hand, I don't mind what goes on."  
  
'Phousse grinned. "Good. They're damned good."  
  
"Get Hawkes in on it and you'll really be having a good time."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
He didn't say another word, just retired to his bunk.  
  
****  
  
McQueen didn't try to talk to Vansen until his next shift as pilot twenty hours into the flight. But the fact she was still with them reassured him somewhat.  
  
"Report."  
  
"West, here. All fine here. Just getting a bit cramped."  
  
"You'll have plenty of opportunity to stretch once we're planet side."  
  
"Hawkes, here. Fine. Same thing."  
  
"Vansen?"  
  
"Fine, sir." Her voice was cool.  
  
"You'll have to deal with it, captain. One way or the other."  
  
"That's your opinion, sir."  
  
"Vansen... Shane, who are you madder at? Them or me?" He swung the chair around to the side, placing his feet up on the co-pilot's seat.  
  
After a long pause, Vansen admitted, "You."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you're accepting what they say at face value. There are no such things as vampires."  
  
"One person's magic is another person's technology. I never considered you a closed mind."  
  
"I am not closed minded."  
  
"You did finally, grudgingly, accept Adam, I understand. So..."  
  
"I am not closed minded."  
  
"You seem intent on proving you are."  
  
"It flies in the face of everything I've ever been taught."  
  
"Even the Catholic church has rituals for disposing of the undead."  
  
"Then they're a bunch of fools."  
  
"Every legend or myth has a basis in fact. Sometimes a very small kernel of fact, but there is a fact or truth there somewhere."  
  
"It's not logical."  
  
"Logic doesn't explain everything, Shane. Some things have to be taken on faith. One such thing for me is the argument of the soul. Religious fanatics on Earth claim that Invitroes have no souls, having never been conceived of a woman. I think I have a soul. Who do I believe? My instinct or those men and women who have allowed their hatred to blind them to the fact that I am a man?"  
  
"Excuse me, sir," interrupted West. "But sir, everyone of us has seen men with no souls. And you and Hawkes definitely have souls, better souls than most people. Better even than my parents."  
  
"Nathan..." McQueen did not have anything he could say to ease the sorrow in the young man's voice.  
  
"It's all right, sir. I still love them, but they have chained their souls by not recognizing the truth surrounding them. The same with the religious types. See, my parents were all for Invitro rights, so long as it didn't inconvenience them. And as long as I didn't have to associate with Invitroes. Since my brother Neil's death, they've blamed Invitroes even though it has nothing to do with how Neil died. But they have seen that I care for two men who are better than most and it scares them."  
  
"Nathan..."  
  
"I've learned to live with the disappointment, sir. And I'll never let someone down that I care for, whether they are natural born, Invitro, or vampire."  
  
McQueen bowed his head. "What did I do to deserve you?" He felt a tear on his cheek.  
  
"You kicked our butts and cared, sir." Nathan's voice turned harsh. "Shane, if you can't handle it, go back. If you're not with us one hundred percent, get the hell out. You're a danger to the mission."  
  
"I'll do my job."  
  
"That's not good enough. Doing one's job doesn't even cut it as the bare minimum for this one. If the colonel is willing to go through with this, then it is our responsibility to support him."  
  
"Vampires are evil."  
  
"So are a lot of humans and Invitroes. And AIs. I don't see you refusing to believe in them."  
  
"Dammit! They're real! I've seen them, touched them."  
  
"And we have three Marines who insist that vampires are real. I'm inclined to believe them. And I don't believe that Silver is evil. An evil person would never have gone through the hell she did with us to get McQueen back to full active duty. An evil person would have arranged for him to die or be crippled or shunted off to some backwater, hole-in-the-wall spot on Earth, far away from where he could actually do some good. So, Shane, you start thinking this stuff over. I know what living because 'faith is all I've got' is like. To lose your faith now in Silver and McQueen, that's wrong." Nathan took a deep breath and calmed down. "All right, I've probably said more than enough. I'm eating a ration bar and taking a nap. Talk to you later."  
  
"I'm eating and sleeping." Vansen shut down her link.  
  
McQueen sighed.  
  
"She'll come around, sir." 'Phousse stood in the hatch. "She's just being stubborn."  
  
"Before or after we reach Baldur will be the question."  
  
"Just give her some time, sir."  
  
McQueen nodded. "At least she hasn't turned around to go back."  
  
"She wouldn't, sir."  
  
"I know that. Her sense of duty is strong and she agreed to the mission."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Don't you have some tricksters to get back to?"  
  
'Phousse smiled. "You really don't mind?"  
  
"No, but you know West will be here for the trip back?"  
  
"Yes, so I might as well enjoy myself now."  
  
"Go on, Vanessa. Don't worry about me."  
  
Hesitating for a second, 'Phousse leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. "We really do care about you, colonel."  
  
Briefly McQueen touched her cheek. "I know. Go on. Have your fun. Shut the hatch."  
  
Alone with his thoughts, McQueen settled back for the rest of his four hour shift. He knew the three had been waiting for him to take his shift before starting anything. Their consideration touched him.  
  
****  
  
At the forty-hour mark, McQueen again checked in with the pilots. He knew West and Hawkes had been asking questions of the three during their shifts since they had left the cockpit hatch open so he could hear. Vansen on the other hand had remained quiet, only reporting her status. The only one she apparently talked to was 'Phousse.  
  
"Status, pilots."  
  
"Doing fine, colonel," answered West. "Only ten hours to go. Thank God."  
  
"Can't we get there sooner, colonel?" complained Hawkes.  
  
"Sounds like everything's fine with you, Hawkes."  
  
"Yeah. All right if I play some music?"  
  
"Go ahead. Vansen?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Listen up, folks. When we reach Baldur, we'll start flying a long V formation. Hawkes, you'll have the point. Vansen, you'll be to his right, West his left. We'll fly to West's left. We'll start with the most promising mountain range, fly north to south. Then proceed to the next one. Once we pick up a signal from the beacon, we'll fly a delta pattern around the area until we find a second signal. Same for the third time."  
  
"Sounds good, colonel."  
  
"West, you'll have the task of finding a landing zone sufficient for all four vehicles."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Vansen, you and Hawkes will remain in the air until after the ISSAPC has landed. You'll be our air cover."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Good. Get some rest, people. Once we're down, I suspect that there will be little time to relax." McQueen shrugged his shoulders, feeling a muscle knot in the left one. He frowned, trying to ease it out.  
  
"Roger that. Hawkes, you want to nap or stare at the stars some more?" asked West.  
  
"Grab a nap, West. I'll wake you in a few hours."  
  
"Ok."  
  
Shutting down the transmitter, McQueen jumped when a hand started to work his shoulder. He glanced up and found Russell, intently massaging the tight muscles.  
  
"Relax, sir."  
  
"Aren't you busy right now?"  
  
"I saw the stiffness when you got up. Thought I would help a bit."  
  
"Thanks." McQueen hissed as fingers dug into an especially tight knot.  
  
"Stop worrying. Vansen is a tough fighter who has had some realities suddenly challenged. If she had really wanted out, she would have left long before this. Some people really fight mental changes."  
  
"She needs to concentrate on the mission." McQueen allowed his chin to drop to his chest.  
  
"She will, once we enter the system, you'll see. She'll become all Marine, concentrating on the problem of survival. It'll be once we have found wherever Silver's been hiding that any hesitation will occur."  
  
"That could get a bit too interesting."  
  
"Yeah. Better?" Russell released McQueen's shoulder.  
  
"Yes. Thank you."  
  
"Nothing to it, colonel. All you have to do is ask."  
  
McQueen understood the full meaning. "I can't always do so."  
  
"I know. Just remember, we won't judge you." Russell shut the hatch behind him.  
  
****  
  
As they entered the star system, McQueen forced himself to sit still in the co-pilot's seat. Finch, having just awakened from a nap, occupied the pilot's seat and she was coolly checking all the transport's systems. Russell, Phousse and St. John manned the transport's gun ports.  
  
"Now, the fun begins," Finch murmured.  
  
"Yes." McQueen activated the transmitter. "Remember, we want to slip in undetected. We'll fight if we have to, but I would prefer not to."  
  
"Roger, Queen 6." West sounded alert. "Only two hours to go till planet orbit."  
  
"Can we set down at some point just to stretch our legs?" asked Hawkes.  
  
"If we get there without any attention, I just might allow that."  
  
"Hell, they'll never know we were in the neighborhood."  
  
McQueen smiled at the urgency in Hawkes' voice.  
  
Luck appeared to be with them on the inward trip. No patrols detected them as they ducked behind every planetary body possible.  
  
The four ships hung in the shadow of a moon while the planet rotated below them two hours later. One of the larger continents showed three likely mountain ranges.  
  
"Sir, I'd suggest starting on that huge range down the middle of the land mass," came Hawkes' voice.  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not, lieutenant?" asked McQueen of St. John.  
  
"It is the obvious one. More times than not, she usually takes a slightly less obvious one. To the west, the range that branches off the main one. It has some nice high peaks and it would be easier to get to hunting ranges."  
  
"So be it. Let's go. Hug the large range until the west one branches."  
  
The first signal came twenty minutes later. McQueen sent West and Vansen to the north of the range and Hawkes accompanied the ISSAPC to the south. An hour later, they knew the rough location of the beacon.  
  
West found a landing place twenty miles from the small peak.  
  
Once the ships were down and camouflaged, McQueen reminded the Hammerhead pilots to empty and bury the waste from the ships. Then he allowed them fifteen mikes to stretch and get the kinks out before issuing gear and starting the march. Everyone packed extra rifle clips in their pockets. He assigned Russell and Hawkes to point; Finch and St. John to tail end Charlie. A glance at the gray sky and McQueen grimaced at the thought of rain.  
  
Thirty minutes of hiking through the undergrowth, ranging from non-existent to moderate and Hawkes signaled a halt.  
  
"Chig armor," Hawkes said, senses alert.  
  
Russell broke a long branch off a nearby tree and started turning over pieces of armor. The green sponge-like substance that the Chigs dissolved into on death coated the interior of the armor and the ground.  
  
McQueen crouched down, several feet away from Russell. "What are you looking for?"  
  
"Trying to see what killed them. Ah, here we go." Flipping a piece over revealed five long slashes down the helmet onto the shoulder through the position of the air hose. Russell checked the other helmet. Same thing. "Silver's work."  
  
"How?" asked Hawkes.  
  
"Primal form. Vampires have their human form and one other. About the size of a panther. Best way for her to hunt." Russell stood up. "These have been dead for at least three days."  
  
"So there will be more patrols." McQueen stood up. "All right. Let's get a move on. Stay alert."  
  
Nearly to the seven-mile mark after crossing two rivers, the ground started to rise and the forest thinned. More open areas and small lakes appeared. The local wildlife appeared to ignore them and McQueen wondered how long their luck would hold.  
  
As they approached yet another small lake, their luck ran out. Out of the water only thirty feet ahead of them rose something resembling a mad cross between a moose and a rhinoceros. Thick, long legs ending with sharp hooves, a short, powerful body, a heavy head with small eyes, large ears and a large nose, short powerful neck and a rack of thick antlers that ran up from the nose to the top of the heavy head made up the tan colored creature. Ten feet across, the antlers bore sharp needle like prongs.  
  
The rhino-moose snorted and stomped out onto the shore.  
  
McQueen motioned for the squad to slowly back away, praying that the breeze would continue blowing from the lake.  
  
The breeze died even as 'Phousse stepped into a depression. She stumbled and the beast's head swung around, attracted by the sudden motion, ears flicking rapidly.  
  
McQueen froze, hoping the others would do the same. He watched as 'Phousse tried to right herself, grimacing with pain.  
  
The rhino-moose's nose opened and closed, seeking a scent. The capricious breeze resumed, blowing from the Marines to the beast.  
  
A surprisingly high-pitched scream and the beast lowered its head to charge.  
  
"Scatter!" McQueen reached over and grabbed 'Phousse's arm, dragging her to the side with him.  
  
With a swiftness McQueen did not expected, the beast reached 'Phousse's previous position. It pounded the ground and whirled about, the antlers just missing McQueen's back. The rhino-moose shifted its position slightly.  
  
McQueen thrust 'Phousse behind a tree. A grunt was forced out of him as what felt like a massive sledgehammer made contact with his left side, back and pack. The blow lifted McQueen off his feet and flung him into another tree twenty feet away, spinning in the air so he hit back first. Stunned, McQueen struggled to breathe and to move as the massive beast charged.  
  
He could see the spurts of blood and muscle ripples as bullets impacted, but he knew it was too late. Even if they killed it, the momentum would plow the massive body directly into him.  
  
A black shape dropped from a tree onto the beast's shoulders and neck. With a bellow, the rhino-beast whirled and bucked less then five feet from where McQueen lay.  
  
Reprieved, McQueen clawed his way to the side of the tree, still waiting for the chance to breathe. The first gasp of air brought agony spearing through his body as broken ribs shifted.  
  
Hands reached down and lifted McQueen up, dragging him to safety behind the tree he had hit. Finch slid his M-590 off his shoulder and started to undo his pack.  
  
"'Phousse?" wheezed McQueen, eyes closing against the pain.  
  
"Hawkes got to her."  
  
McQueen nodded, then hissed as Finch shifted his body the wrong way.  
  
"Can you sit up for a moment, sir?"  
  
With her help, McQueen sat up, clenching his jaw to fight the pain. The pack removed, he wanted only to sink down onto the ground, but had to endure the lowering of the flight suit to his waist. Finch started binding his ribs and McQueen tried to find something to focus on. He saw Russell and St. John crouched nearby, watching the battle.  
  
"Ah, there, she's got its nose. It's a goner now." Russell shook his head. "It just doesn't know it yet."  
  
"What-" McQueen gasped as the pain spiked.  
  
"She's reached forward and grabbed it by the nose, sir. She's pulling its head around to the side. Either its neck will break or it will go to its knees and then to its side. Either way, it's dead."  
  
"Silver?"  
  
"Yes. She found us." The ground shook slightly. Russell grinned. "It's down. She's drinking from it now. I'm going to circle around and try to get an idea of the shape she's in."  
  
The rest of the squad gathered. 'Phousse touched McQueen lightly on the arm. "Sir?"  
  
"Just ribs."  
  
"That thing moved so damn fast. Thanks for pulling me out of the way."  
  
McQueen nodded, concentrating on getting back into his flight suit. The pain was manageable.  
  
"Shit!" Russell crouched by McQueen. "This is really bad. She's been in this form I'd say at least three days, more likely four or more. And she's hurt, really hurt. She let me close enough to touch, nothing but skin and bones. That's the first meal she's had in days. I felt broken ribs and she can't put weight on her right arm, looks like it's dislocated or broken."  
  
"Not her usual pristine shape." McQueen accepted Finch's hand and lurched to his feet with a hiss. "Let's see her." He started to reach for his pack, but Finch stopped him.  
  
"You're going to need your strength, sir. And I suspect some mobility. We'll shift it around between us."  
  
McQueen realized she was correct. He nodded once, grabbed his M-590 from where it had been leaned against the tree and used a hand on the tree as he took the three steps to be able to see the downed rhino-moose.  
  
Crouched over the thick neck was another creature McQueen would not have expected. It was vaguely felinoid, with a short muzzle and large ears, and a nearly non-existent tail. The claws that tipped the blunt, short fingers on her paws were retractable he could see as she flexed the right ones into the still face of the rhino-moose. Black fur, matted with blood, covered the five-foot long body. With broken grace, Silver stood on three feet and hobbled over to the main body of the beast, her mouth open as she panted with the exertion. A chill ran down his spine as he saw the six-inch long fangs reminiscent of the extinct saber toothed cats. Only these were more like knife blades, thinner, narrower, curved inward, designed for slashing open flesh.  
  
Russell stepped up to the body of the rhino-moose, K-bar in hand. He slashed open the belly as St. John joined him. Together the two men broke open the chest of the beast.  
  
"What are they doing?"  
  
"Making it easier for her to get to the good stuff inside, Hawkes." Finch gave McQueen a quick look. "She'll eat whatever passes for a heart, liver, spleen in that thing. Rich in protein and necessary for her to do any healing. Hey, Russell, you have a couple of plastic bags?"  
  
"Of course. I brought a thirty gallon one, too."  
  
"Carve us a haunch."  
  
"You cooking?"  
  
"Yeah, I'll cook it, if you find some stuff to go with it."  
  
"Right on."  
  
"You're going to eat that thing?"  
  
McQueen almost laughed at the look on Hawkes' face. "Hawkes, man has been eating meat for thousands of years."  
  
"But that's an animal!"  
  
"Where did you think meat came from?"  
  
"The store."  
  
McQueen chuckled. "What did you eat on your survival course?"  
  
"I didn't. Just drank water."  
  
"I can see we need to expand your knowledge." McQueen turned to Finch. "There's some herbs in my pack. Feel free to use them." When she raised an eyebrow, he said, "One should always be prepared for any eventuality. Fresh meat sounds good. And will do us some good."  
  
Russell had placed the meat he had carved from the rear haunch of the rhino- moose into several large plastic bags and sealed them when West yelled, "Chig patrol! Cover!"  
  
Everyone hit the dirt, grabbing their weapons, as plasma bolts hit the ground and the trees.  
  
A deep-throated coughing roar deafened the defenders. The plasma bolts suddenly stopped.  
  
McQueen raised his head and saw Silver's four-footed form dropping down from standing on the body. She staggered and nearly collapsed. That alone told McQueen how badly injured she was. Blood coated her body from nose to well past her shoulders as she burrowed back into the body cavity.  
  
"The damn Chigs are terrified of her in this form!" St. John slowly rose. "They're gone for now."  
  
"We need to get to shelter soon." With a grunt, McQueen forced himself up onto his feet.  
  
"Sir, we'll have to wait for her."  
  
"I know, Finch. I just wish she could eat faster."  
  
"The more she eats now, the less she'll need later."  
  
"I'm aware of that, believe me. But the Chigs will be back, in numbers. They obviously know better than to attack her in small groups. We can't take on large numbers of them."  
  
"Russell, how much meat you got there?"  
  
"Enough for us to eat a decent meal and jerk some, plus maybe a meal for her. St. John, take another of the smaller bags and cut some real hefty chunks."  
  
Silver emerged, jaws chomping on a bloody piece of organ and she started laboriously limping toward the lake.  
  
For a moment, McQueen just watched her, seeing how difficult it was for her to even walk. There was damage to her right leg as well, so it appeared she had a serious list to the right. He started to follow her.  
  
"Sir, where are you going?" demanded Vansen.  
  
"She needs help." He did not pause.  
  
"You'll be a target, sir."  
  
"So keep them away from me." McQueen felt a presence at his side and glanced up to see Hawkes, scanning the area.  
  
At the lakeside, Silver stopped and drank for several minutes.  
  
She didn't move as McQueen reached her side and slowly began to run his hand up from her plasma burned flank to her head, ignoring the blood soaking her fur. "I'm here, Silver. I'm here to take you home," he said quietly.  
  
With a lurch, Silver plunged into the lake, head going under the water. McQueen's first reaction was to haul her out, but then he realized she needed to wash the blood off. Blocking the pain from his rib cage, he tossed his rifle to Hawkes, waded in to his knees and started running his hands through her short fur, feeling it become silky as the sticky blood washed out. She rose to her feet and he headed for the shore.  
  
"Back off, Hawkes, unless you want a shower."  
  
Hawkes rapidly backpedaled.  
  
Silver stopped at the edge of the water and shook her body, sending water flying in all directions. Then she started moving faster than McQueen thought possible with her injuries.  
  
"Hawkes, my rifle." McQueen caught it in the air. "All right, people. We're on the move." Slipping the shoulder strap over his head sent fire through his chest, nearly making him stumble. A hand supported him. "Thanks," he said to Hawkes.  
  
"Let me take point."  
  
McQueen nodded. He concentrated on following Hawkes through the trees. A glance back showed him the rest of the squad was trailing them.  
  
Every breath burned, every step sent fire through his body, but McQueen forced it down. He had a mission to complete.  
  
Hawkes stopped and crouched by a tree, his rifle ready to snap into action. Breathing shallowly, McQueen leaned against the tree and looked out to see the bottom of a two hundred foot cliff nearly a quarter mile away. One part of the cliff had collapsed creating a steep rocky slope, dotted with huge boulders. He saw Silver nearing the base of the slope. Above, the sky darkened and he knew rain was not far away.  
  
"We have to cross that?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
"Shit. We'll be sitting ducks. There's no cover until we reach the slope."  
  
With a wry grin, McQueen said, "Now, now. There's a few rocks out there taller than three inches."  
  
Hawkes chortled, then sobered. "Seriously, sir, we're just going to have to run across."  
  
"I know. Might as well do it as a group."  
  
"Sure, sir?"  
  
"Might as well have someone to grab you in case they're out there." The rest of the squad had gathered around. "Hawkes, you and Russell, resume point. Everyone else, just get across." McQueen felt an arm wrap around his waist. He found West standing beside him.  
  
"You need some support, sir."  
  
With a nod, McQueen acknowledged West's assessment. "Let's go." He put his arm around West in return.  
  
They were half way across when the roar Silver had used earlier reached their ears. "They're back!" yelled St. John, firing to their rear.  
  
Plasma bolts started raining down around them.  
  
"Keep going!" bellowed McQueen, fighting to ignore the pain it caused. "St. John, cover fire! Hawkes, Russell, find cover! Give support fire!"  
  
A plasma bolt shattered a rock near West, peppering them both with rock shards. McQueen tightened his hold on the young man when West nearly fell, feeling his ribs protest.  
  
Then he and West lunged behind a boulder, breathing hard. They sank down to the ground.  
  
"Shit! I cut myself." West raised his arm, showing the three-inch bleeding gash in his forearm. "What did that?" He looked down at the ground and picked up a pieced of sheet metal. "Sir."  
  
McQueen took one look and knew what it was immediately. A piece of a Hammerhead, from the color of the metal and the smeared numbers. "She lost her Hammerhead. Damn."  
  
"No wonder she's in such bad shape."  
  
"Wrap that arm, West. We're protected for the moment."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Silver, no!" St. John staggered behind the boulder. "She's headed back for the Chigs. I think she's gone into protective mode."  
  
"What does that mean?" asked West, trying to wrap his forearm.  
  
McQueen took the bandage and did the wrapping.  
  
"She's ignoring her injuries to protect us. A killing rampage that won't stop until we're safe. We have to get out of here. She had been headed up the slope."  
  
"At least there's more cover up there."  
  
"Let's hope the Chigs don't have a mortar with them." McQueen didn't relish the idea of the slope coming down on top of them. He tucked the end of the bandage under and, after a focusing breath, got his feet under him.  
  
"They'd have used it by now."  
  
West shifted himself into a crouch.  
  
"Go. I've got you covered." St. John stepped out and started firing in short bursts.  
  
At a run, West and McQueen zigzagged across to the next bit of cover, dodging the bolts of the enemy. McQueen spared a look over his shoulder and wished he hadn't. What looked like a hundred Chigs were advancing out of the trees. His people were taking them out, but the Chigs were moving quickly. Then a second line appeared behind the first.  
  
"We're really in it now, sir."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Some air cover would be nice about now."  
  
"Right. As I recall the briefing, there was this little note saying something about no back up."  
  
West managed a grin as he maneuvered the two of them behind the next boulder. They found Hawkes coolly shooting.  
  
"Nice of you to show up. Don't you know it's bad manners to be late for the party."  
  
"Traffic was a bit heavier than expected." McQueen leaned against the rock, fighting back the pain.  
  
"Sir?" The large Marine didn't even look at his superior.  
  
"I'll make it, Hawkes."  
  
Hawkes nodded once and stepped out firing a short burst before ducking back. "There's a lot more of them than us."  
  
"Yes. It looks like they're really determined to take us out."  
  
Again, Hawkes stepped out, shooting. Back behind the boulder, he said, "She's out there. I saw her take down two Chigs."  
  
"They're going to kill her."  
  
McQueen shook his head. "I don't think so. If we can hold out for a time, I think their fear of her will force them to stop."  
  
"Better get going, sir. The uninvited guests are nearly here."  
  
"Once St. John is here."  
  
On cue, St. John rolled behind the boulder. "Someone call room service?"  
  
"We'll cover you, sir."  
  
Together, West and McQueen started the next leg of their run to the base of the slope. Just short of the large boulder they were headed for, the ground exploded behind them. Rock shrapnel sliced through their uniforms and the concussion threw them both into the air. The force of his landing sent a wave of agony through McQueen and he lost his hold on consciousness briefly.  
  
Struggling back to consciousness, McQueen felt the first raindrops hit his upturned face and then the shattering pain that encompassed his entire chest. Then he heard the unmistakable chittering sound that heralded the approach of Chigs. Willing his head to turn, McQueen slowly rolled his head to where the sound came from. Twenty Chigs were only thirty feet away.  
  
"OOH-RAAH!" Russell rolled into McQueen's sight, rifle in hand, firing non- stop.  
  
"OOH-RAAH!" came the roar of Hawkes as he stepped out from the last boulder, St. John at his side. "OOH-RAAH!"  
  
More war cries came from the slope.  
  
The Chigs went down, firing sporadically at the Marines.  
  
From the sky came a drizzle, just enough to wet the ground.  
  
McQueen closed his eyes, struggling to fight the pain, forcing himself to roll onto his side toward West. Opening his eyes, he saw West also fighting to move, clawing his body forward.  
  
Finch appeared, sliding her hands under West's armpits and dragged him to cover. Then she was back to do the same for McQueen. The pain spike sent McQueen spiraling down again into darkness.  
  
"-get West up the hill. Russell and I will stay here and keep them off the colonel," McQueen heard as he regained consciousness. Hawkes was crouched over him, looking at Finch and St. John. "Move it."  
  
Finch slung an unconscious West over her shoulder in a fireman's carry and started running. St. John ran behind her, turning every so often to shoot.  
  
"How... many left?" McQueen asked, fighting the pain.  
  
"Bout forty."  
  
"Not bad. Out of two hundred. Silver?"  
  
"Still out there somewhere. She pops up, kills one or two, and then disappears."  
  
"Damn, she's good," Hawkes grinned.  
  
"Almost out of bullets, here," stated Russell.  
  
"Take my rifle and my clips." McQueen was not in any shape to use it. He forced his hand to his right hip where his pistol was holstered.  
  
Russell slipped the rifle off McQueen and handed it to Hawkes, then patted McQueen's pockets until he found the clips. "You're the sharpshooter. I've a back up set of weapons." He reached down and removed the pistol for McQueen, pressing it into the colonel's hand.  
  
"Here they come."  
  
The chittering of Chigs reached McQueen's ears again. He saw both Hawkes and Russell step out to shoot. When Russell's weapon ran out of bullets, he tossed it to the ground and snapped his wrist down. A slim dagger appeared in his hand and he sent it flying with another snap. Both hands were busy throwing daggers.  
  
High-pitched screams rose from the Chigs.  
  
"Way to go, Silver." Hawkes grinned, still firing.  
  
Russell pulled his K-bar and stepped up to battle a Chig in hand to hand. Hawkes did the same. Waiting for a clear shot, McQueen held the pistol in both hands. Two more Chigs came around the boulder. He fired on the first one and swore as his shot missed because of the shaking in his arms. He fired again, hitting his target, but the second Chig was nearly on top of him and the two Marines were busy in their own battles.  
  
Then chocolate fur swept the Chig aside, ripping its armor to shreds. The Chig collapsed, oozing green spooge. Silver reached out and tripped the Chig Hawkes was battling before biting the leg of the one on Russell. The Chigs down, Silver resumed her uphill trek, leaving the Marines to finish the kills.  
  
Wiping his K-Bar on the ground, Hawkes said, "Damn, that was close. I hope you can walk, sir, cause I don't know if we can carry you up that slope."  
  
"Give me a hand up and we'll find out."  
  
Hawkes placed his hands under McQueen's arms and lifted him bodily from the ground. Pain slammed through McQueen and the pistol fell from his nerveless fingers. He slumped against Hawkes, struggling to breathe.  
  
"Shit, your back looks like hamburger. Sir."  
  
Russell shrugged out of his pack and rummaged through it. "Hold him for a moment, Hawkes. I've got something that might help, for a time. It isn't addictive, but it'll only take the edge off the pain." He pulled a small plastic bottle out and his canteen. "Silver's family came up with a mild pain killer for us. Lasts about four hours."  
  
"Yeah, I know," McQueen managed.  
  
"Suppose you do. Did you have any problems with it?"  
  
"Just violently ill the first time. Was ok after that."  
  
"That's the way it is for us. Do you want it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Russell shook out two pills, and after a look at McQueen, said, "Open up." He tossed the pills into McQueen's mouth and then placed the canteen to McQueen's lips.  
  
McQueen took three deep swallows before reaching up with a shaking hand to push the canteen away. "It takes about five mikes on me."  
  
"Works faster on you than me." Russell was putting the bottle and canteen away. As he started pulling extra clips for his M-590 out, he added, "Takes about ten mikes for me and St. John and twelve for Finch."  
  
"Can you dig a few of my clips out?" asked Hawkes.  
  
"No sweat."  
  
McQueen pulled away from Hawkes several minutes later, wanting to see if he could stand on his own. He swayed, but stayed upright. When Hawkes started to offer his rifle back, McQueen shook his head and nearly fell. He leaned against the boulder. "Keep it. I'm in no shape to use it."  
  
Picking up the pistol, Russell secured it back in McQueen's holster. "Just hang in there, sir."  
  
"Hey, West's up and moving."  
  
"Good. Time for us to do the same." McQueen clenched his jaw against the pain and pushed away from the solid support of the boulder. Forcing the pain down, McQueen concentrated on making the foot of the slope and then the hard climb ahead.  
  
With a cold rush of wind, the hard rain pounded down upon their bodies. In addition, the temperature started steadily dropping.  
  
By the time McQueen reached the top of the slope, his hands and knees were bloody from scrabbling to find some purchase on the rocks. Mud caked the front of his flight suit from numerous falls he had long since lost count of, and he could feel blood mixing with the water running down his back. He narrowed his focus to just keep moving. Some time later when two arms wrapped around his waist, McQueen did not even acknowledge them, too focused on keeping his feet moving.  
  
An eternity later, McQueen tried to step but the arms wouldn't let him. He became aware of the fact he was standing chest deep in cold running water.  
  
"Hold your breath, sir, as deep as you can. We have to go under water." 'Phousse was to his right. Vansen to his left.  
  
Sucking air deep into his lungs started him coughing.  
  
"Easy, sir." Once he stood, shaking, 'Phousse said, "Try again."  
  
McQueen obeyed and locked down on the coughs. A hand clasped itself over his nose and mouth as he was dragged under the water. His body rebelled and a cough escaped. Viciously, the hand clamped his mouth shut hard. He allowed his body to go limp and closed his eyes. Then the coughs started again, racking his body, sending waves of pain shooting through him. Water forced its way into his lungs as his head snapped free of the hand.  
  
Then he was being pulled from the water. Vaguely he heard 'Phousse say, "We're ok, sir. We're safe now."  
  
A nod and he collapsed in their arms, letting darkness roll over him.  
  
****  
  
Damp, chill air clung to his naked body and hard rock lay beneath a blanket under him, McQueen realized as he painfully became aware of his surroundings. He did not bother opening his eyes, as he lay on his stomach, feeling hands working to remove rock splinters from his back.  
  
"How the hell did he keep going? Russell, he's going to need another painkiller. Where the hell did Silver go?" Finch sounded worried.  
  
"She ducked out as soon as you got him out of the water," answered Russell. "Here."  
  
"Come on, sir. Open up." Finch lifted McQueen's head slightly.  
  
McQueen allowed his mouth to open. Pills landed on his tongue and he felt a canteen at his lips. He swallowed almost convulsively. She laid his head back down and he turned it away from the others.  
  
"At least the Chigs won't be following us through the downpour." West sounded exhausted to McQueen.  
  
"We need a fire," Vansen ordered.  
  
Hawkes' voice echoed. "Hey, look here. Wood, lots of it and tinder. And there's a small hole in the ceiling here. Not more than a couple of inches, but it'll let the smoke out. And the cave goes further back."  
  
"Get a fire going, Hawkes. The colonel and West need warmth now. So do we all." Vansen's voice reflected her weariness.  
  
"Someone should stand guard in case."  
  
"Are you volunteering to swim back out there, Hawkes?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I think we'll have to trust that Col. Silver found us a secure place. Russell, where's that meat you've been lugging around?"  
  
"I'll have it ready to go by the time the fire's ready, Captain."  
  
Finch spoke quietly. "Colonel, you're in pretty bad shape. I think we got all the water out of your lungs. I've counted six broken ribs and three cracked ones. There's some sort of internal damage, possibly some bleeding. You're suffering from blood loss, shock and hypothermia. As soon as I've gotten these damned rock shards out of your back, arms and legs, we'll wrap you in some blankets next to the fire. Damn, you've got some in your neck and scalp, too. I need you to stay conscious for a while, all right?"  
  
"Yes," McQueen whispered.  
  
"Can you keep your eyes open, sir?"  
  
It took a supreme effort, but McQueen did so.  
  
"Good, sir."  
  
The sound of wood being consumed by fire reached McQueen and a sense of inner warmth flooded through him. Even the coughs that suddenly racked him did not banish the warm feeling. All he wanted to do was go back to the quiet darkness, but he had promised to stay awake.  
  
Despite Finch's attempts to be gentle, McQueen flinched from time to time as she dug into his flesh to remove the rock slivers.  
  
"How's West doing there, 'Phousse?"  
  
"The pack took the brunt of the shards, Finch, but his arms and legs are cut to ribbons."  
  
"Do your best."  
  
"We're going to need more bandages."  
  
"Russell, do you have a fuser?"  
  
"Yeah, but it doesn't have a lot of charges. Not enough to do either of them any real good."  
  
"Use it on the worst of West's cuts, then bring it to me. Both St. John and I lost ours last time. I never got around to asking for another one and St. John never ordered his either."  
  
"Because I knew I would never get one. I never get what I ask for. My luck they would send me a horseshoe."  
  
"At least that would give us some luck." Finch sighed. "Sir, this set of three will hurt. They've gone deep."  
  
"Do it."  
  
His cut and lacerated hands clenched as she probed the three holes in his back.  
  
"Damn, these almost had your liver written on them. Russell, are you done over there?"  
  
"Coming, coming. Here, Finch. Damn, he's a mess."  
  
"Go on, finish getting the meat ready."  
  
"Hey, you said you were going to cook."  
  
"Which would you rather do, his back or the meat?"  
  
"If you want something palatable, his back."  
  
Finch sighed. "You really need to practice cooking. But since I want to eat something that is not burnt to a crisp, I'll leave the rest to you. Be careful. He needs to stay conscious for a while."  
  
"Hey, I'm Mr. Soft Touch."  
  
"Yeah, right."  
  
"What's left to remove?"  
  
Finch's finger gently ran over the areas she described. "Here between his shoulder blades, the neck and scalp, and the left arm."  
  
"All right. Go on. I'll take care of him."  
  
McQueen felt Finch's presence leave him and Russell brushed against his legs as he crouched down. The fingers that touched his back were feather soft.  
  
"Where'd you leave his pack, Russell?"  
  
"Next to mine."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Russell gently pinched together the worst of the gashes. "I'm going to fuse a few of these really bad ones, colonel, before I finish removing the rest of the rock pieces. Ok?"  
  
"Fuse?"  
  
"Another little gadget that Silver's family has been letting us field test. It'll bond, or fuse, the muscles and skin together, letting it heal faster and it helps to stop the bleeding. Minimizes scarring too."  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"It'll sting a little."  
  
McQueen lost track of time as Russell used the fuser on seven of the worst holes in his skin and then started removing the rest of the rock from his body. He felt detached, removed from what was happening, and knew he was slipping into shock.  
  
"Hey, a little help here."  
  
"Let me help." 'Phousse crouched down beside McQueen, her hand gently probing his bloody scalp. "How do you feel, sir?"  
  
"Like I'm not here."  
  
"Are you cold?"  
  
"Warm."  
  
'Phousse and Russell exchanged glances over the shivering body.  
  
"Forget the rest of them. We need to get him warm now." Russell scooped McQueen up in his arms and with a grunt rose to his feet. "Get the blankets."  
  
McQueen lay passively in Russell's arms, not even alarmed at the way the squad hurriedly made a bed for him, using most of the blankets. Russell settled him down on his right side, the one with no broken ribs. Keeping his eyes open became more difficult as the blankets created a warm cocoon around him.  
  
"Sir, you promised to stay awake."  
  
McQueen forced his eyes open and saw Vansen crouched before him. "Tired."  
  
"You have to stay awake. Please, sir. We can't finish the mission without you."  
  
"She doesn't matter to you." It exhausted him to speak.  
  
"She matters to you, sir. So... she matters to me." Vansen's eyes shone with unshed tears.  
  
A sigh escaped McQueen. "Lie down."  
  
Vansen realized he wanted her to lie down behind him and hold him to provide warmth. "Yes, sir." She stretched out behind him; glad she had changed into a dry flight suit. Her arm under his head, Vansen could feel his labored breathing against her chest. Hesitantly, she settled her other arm over his hip.  
  
"Talk."  
  
"What about?"  
  
He sighed.  
  
"You just want me to talk to you. All right."  
  
McQueen did not even pay attention to what she said, just used her voice as an anchor to keep him awake. When Phousse came over and started going through his scalp to remove more chips, he bent his head forward, still concentrating on Vansen's voice. He felt Phousse move down to his neck and her fingers felt warm against his bare skin.  
  
'Phousse was surprised when McQueen reached up with his left hand and captured her hand although he could barely close his fingers around it. He drew her hand down to his mouth where he kissed her palm softly, seductively. Then he released her.  
  
The two women looked at one another, silent.  
  
"Don't stop," he croaked.  
  
"Do you need some water?" asked Phousse.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Phousse gave both McQueen and Vansen some water. "There's just the area between your shoulder blades and your left arm to do now, sir."  
  
McQueen made no comment, only rolled slightly forward away from Vansen with his upper body. When Vansen started to remove her arm from his hip, he grabbed it weakly. "No."  
  
"I think he needs the contact. He's running a fever. And they said IVs couldn't get infections. Obviously he's forgotten to read his own manual."  
  
A chuckle escaped McQueen at Phousse's words. Coughs followed on its heels, spiking him with the pain. He groaned.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you laugh."  
  
"Alive."  
  
"Hm. As long as you can laugh, you're alive?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good to know in case you stop laughing on us. Not that you actually laugh around us very often."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Phousse could hear the regret in his voice. "It's all right, sir. We do understand. Now, let me finish pulling out that damn rock you insisted on bringing with you."  
  
As Phousse resumed probing his body, McQueen heard Vansen continue talking. Again, he focused on her voice.  
  
"All right. Dinnertime. St. John, help West sit up." Finch pulled several slabs of meat from sticks perched over the fire. "Hawkes, dice some of this one for the colonel."  
  
"No." McQueen could sense the shock his word had caused.  
  
"Aren't you hungry?" Phousse touched his cheek gently.  
  
"No."  
  
"You need to eat."  
  
"Eat." It was a voice McQueen had not heard for over three months. The softest of whispers as if in his ear. He jerked partially up onto his elbow, but he did not see her anywhere.  
  
"Eat." Insistent, not to be denied.  
  
"All right." McQueen slumped back down, exhausted. His eyes closed.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Ok."  
  
When Hawkes brought the meat over, the young Marine slowly and patiently fed his superior while eagerly eating his own portion.  
  
Vansen left her position behind McQueen in order to eat.  
  
The rest of the squad devoured the meat and they settled down to relax.  
  
"Shouldn't one of us stay awake?" asked West.  
  
"Safe," came the whisper.  
  
"No. Secure." He could feel their wonder at his sureness. "Silver."  
  
Russell nodded. "She's out there still. We're safe enough for now. And we all need some serious shut-eye."  
  
One by one, the squad fell asleep. Last was McQueen, wondering how he could hear Silver. 


	7. Blood and Souls, Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Warning: Sex and violence.  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Waking slowly, McQueen knew something was not quite right. Warmth coated his throat, rhythmically as if someone were breathing on him. Two small points on his throat stung slightly, then he moaned softly as his body became suffused with pleasure. A hand slid under the blankets down his bare chest to his sudden hardness. The hand grasped and started pumping and his body responded automatically. Before the hand finished its job, the warmth left his throat and moved down to engulf his hard aching cock. He thrust twice and exploded. His cry was buried under a hand over his mouth.  
  
A mouth covered his a moment later and he struggled to open his eyes. Silver stared down into his face. The human Silver. A very wet, naked Silver. She broke off the kiss.  
  
Before he could speak, she placed her fingers over his mouth. Silver crouched over him, barely able to move her right arm. Bringing her left wrist to her mouth, she slashed it open and held it to his mouth. "Drink," she whispered.  
  
He obeyed, a part of him wondering why she wasn't tearing into him as expected. The blood was rich with flavor, not what he had expected, having tasted his own too many times. McQueen waited for her to signal a stop to his drinking.  
  
"Picture your body healing. Feel it healthy. Know it is so." Bare whisper of words.  
  
McQueen obeyed. And still she let him drink.  
  
"Know every organ is whole. Convince yourself every blood vessel is intact."  
  
Still she did not pull her wrist away.  
  
He tried to stop, but the hardness that entered her eyes warned him. So he drank. And drank.  
  
"Sleep deeply when I leave. Understand this. You must get them out of here once I bring the recorder. The mission... the mission is still in effect. The mission is first priority. You must get the recorder to the fleet. There are at least three super Hive ships being built here. They are nearly finished, maybe as much a month from full capability. Getting the recorder to the fleet is worth my life. I'm walking dead any way." She smiled sadly. "But you can't leave the cave for another twelve hours. I'll be back only when everyone is asleep. I love you, Tyrus Cassius McQueen."  
  
She pulled away, licked her wrist and before his eyes shifted back into the furred form. Even as he struggled to form words, Silver limped away into the water and out of his sight.  
  
Darkness dragged him down.  
  
****  
  
"-was here. Look at him. Even we don't heal that fast."  
  
Finch was crouched beside McQueen from the loudness of her voice. He groaned, suddenly feeling stiff. Opening his eyes, McQueen saw Finch and Vansen squared off across his body. "Enough," he croaked.  
  
Vansen placed a canteen to his lips and he drank thirstily. "Sir, what happened?"  
  
He struggled to sit up and Finch leaned him against her. "Silver came while everyone was asleep." A shiver went through him. "Get me my clothes. I need to get dressed."  
  
'Phousse brought his clean uniform, shorts and socks. "Your boots are still wet."  
  
"Everyone's boots are still wet." Hawkes sounded petulant.  
  
Putting his socks on, McQueen said, "She drank from me, I think. Then she had me drink from her."  
  
"Did she say anything about healing?" asked Finch.  
  
"Yes. For me to believe my body was healing. To feel it that way."  
  
"Typical forced healing. The blood you drank was saturated with a symbiote that lives in vampires. When you drink the blood and think certain ways, it will accelerate healing or other things. What else?"  
  
He started slipping his shorts on. "She said the mission was still in effect. The shipyards in this system have three of those damn super Hive ships in production. Maybe as much as a month left till they're completed."  
  
"Oh, god."  
  
"I agree, West." McQueen accepted a hand up from Finch and decided to use her help to get into his flight suit. "But she said we can't leave for twelve hours. Why, I don't know. But getting that recorder is top priority. It has to get to the fleet, no matter what."  
  
"Twelve hours?" Finch chewed her lower lip as she helped him straighten up. She zipped him up, swatting his hand away. "The recorder must be some distance away."  
  
"Her Hammerhead left wreckage where the Chigs ambushed us." West sounded tired still.  
  
"That's a good three hours trek," 'Phousse sighed. "I'm not looking forward to that again. It was hellish enough the first time."  
  
"Was there anything else, sir?" Finch let him hold onto her arm.  
  
"No." He looked around the cave. "How's the wood holding out?"  
  
"It won't last twelve hours."  
  
"Hawkes, you said the cave goes back further. Have you gone to explore?"  
  
"No."  
  
McQueen heard the sheepishness and the tightly reined in fear. "Vansen, go with him. Find out where it goes. Maybe there's a back entrance. Or more wood. But first, is there anything to eat around here?"  
  
"More meat. It's lightly smoked now."  
  
"I'll take some. I'm starving."  
  
"It's the accelerated healing. Your body is burning calories fast," explained Finch. "Russell, there should be some of those damn bars in my pack. Grab two, please." Then she looked McQueen in the eyes. "How much did you drink?"  
  
"I don't know. Two, three minutes worth."  
  
Finch's eyes went wide. "Damn, no wonder you're in such good shape. Thirty seconds is standard, forty-five doing extra." She caught the bars Russell tossed her. "Eat them both. You need the extra vitamins and minerals. Ignore the taste as best you can."  
  
The smell of coffee permeated the cave. "Coffee any one?" asked St. John.  
  
Vansen spun around. "How?"  
  
"Instant and I boiled water in my helmet."  
  
"That's destruction of property!"  
  
"Not mine. I've an old WWII steel helmet, complete with strap, tucked up inside the padding, works as a pot. Been using it for six years. Finch, you want to make a stew if we find something to go with the meat?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Kay. Meanwhile, there's enough coffee here for everyone to have at least one small cup."  
  
"Instant coffee and smoked meat. Sumptuous banquets in the Marine Corps," laughed West.  
  
"Better than damn rat bars," snapped Hawkes.  
  
"Anything is better than rat bars, except maybe worms." 'Phousse shuddered. "I hated survival training. I'm a city girl at heart."  
  
McQueen sat down, feeling unsteady. "So why did you join the Marines?"  
  
" My ex-boyfriend's little girl was having a hard time accepting me as a friend. And I wanted to find myself, to know who I am, before I started working on reactors again. Unfortunately, the war started."  
  
"There's Paul."  
  
'Phousse smiled at Vansen. "Yes, there's Paul. I don't know if there's anything between us really or not. But I would like to find out. His last letter said he was almost ready to start physical therapy. He had only two more sessions in the tank to go."  
  
"Sir," Hawkes looked up from the chunk of meat he had been gnawing on. "Was it bad, the regeneration tank?"  
  
McQueen sighed heavily. "It was hard, and the only reason I could keep going back into the damned thing was because I knew all of you were waiting for me. And Paul, he kept me going. His support...." McQueen closed his eyes and took a deep breath, deciding to let them understand. "I would have panicked more often if it hadn't been for him. He would have me go first so he could hold my hand as I went in. Then he'd be picked up and wheeled over to his tank. And the damn fool would scream his war cry and shove off into the tank. Damned crazy." He shook his head. "We could see each other and type messages back and forth. Cassie would read to us both or bring her music or just talk to us."  
  
"She's a good kid."  
  
"That she is." McQueen glanced at Russell.  
  
"Who's Cassie?"  
  
"Silver's daughter, West."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Thirteen years old. Looks like her mother. Same no nonsense attitude. Doesn't take it from anyone, not even colonels." McQueen grinned.  
  
"Or generals or admirals or corporate moguls or anyone." Finch laughed. "And neither does her mother."  
  
"So, how did Paul take the time in the tank?" 'Phousse sat down beside McQueen.  
  
"A lot better than I did, I think. He never seemed down, not even during the tests between tank sessions. And they were grueling, especially for him. Seemingly checking every nerve in your body. The ones for my ear were agony until it finally was healed. I can't imagine the pain he must have been in with so much of his body no longer functioning."  
  
"Sir, just how bad was Paul?"  
  
McQueen looked directly at 'Phousse. "Bad, real bad. With the muscle and nerve damage, he would have been confined to a wheel chair or even a bed for the rest of his life with only one arm working. But by the end of the month, he was actually able to flex the other hand and both feet."  
  
A sob escaped from 'Phousse. "Thank God!"  
  
McQueen pulled her close and held her while she quietly cried into his shoulder. As he did so, it occurred to him that he was not feeling a lot of pain from his ribs. "After our sessions, there would be about two or three hours before the tests would start. The first half dozen times I was nearly out of my mind by the end of the four days. Paul had them wrap him around me so I could feel him there and he could talk softly to me. I don't remember much more than that. I knew enough not to move or I would hurt him. I just remember him holding me, keeping me sane. After that I could handle it just by holding his hand, but he still talked to me. My tests were usually over before his and I would stay with him, holding his hand, giving him something outside the pain to focus on. The last several times he had me play the messages you lot sent. He was going to use them the same way. It gave him hope, knowing you were pulling for him, that you hadn't forgotten him."  
  
"I miss him," whispered 'Phousse.  
  
"I know. I miss him, too, and I know he misses you. And the others."  
  
'Phousse sat up. "Thanks. Oh, I got your shoulder all wet."  
  
"Chalk it up to the price of caring."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"I'm going to do something I'm not terribly good at, so please bear with me. My time in the mines insured I would never have biological children, but I do have a family. The 58th is my family and you are my kids. Ross has been kidding me about my 'kids' since shortly after I took over the 58th. Each and every one of you has carved a niche into my heart and it hurts like hell when something happens to any of you. I'll still kick your butts into next week when you screw up, but it doesn't mean that I don't love you. I may not be able to show it very often back there, but I want you to know it. I'll still worry like a mother hen every time I have to send you out without me... or Silver. And I will still do my duty to the Marine Corps, however it falls. And I am still your commanding officer and I expect the respect that is my due. When you screw up, I will discipline you, as you deserve. But I need you to understand that I will always love you as my kids and I'm damned proud of you all. And I mean all of you." He looked at Finch, St. John and Russell. They nodded, understanding.  
  
'Phousse hugged him quickly. "Thank you for that."  
  
"And I want you Vanessa, Shane and Nathan," McQueen used their first names deliberately, "to know, or rather, understand that I'm still learning how to express what I'm feeling. If you think I'm making mistakes, please tell me."  
  
"Yes, sir." West came over and crouched down with a hiss. "I think you make a damn fine father."  
  
"Thank you. I'll do my best to live up to the title."  
  
With a soft smile at odds with her hard-nosed attitude most of the time, Vansen said, "I agree with Nathan, sir."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Hawkes stood nearby. "So does that make Silver our mother?"  
  
With a laugh, 'Phousse rolled away from McQueen. "Oh, Coop. The things you say sometimes."  
  
"What? What did I say this time?"  
  
Grinning, West rose and slapped the big Marine on the back. "It's all right, Coop."  
  
"Well, he's our male CO and you're saying he's like our father. So, Silver's our female CO. Doesn't that mean she's our mother?"  
  
McQueen gave Vansen a quick look. She dropped her gaze to the floor briefly before nodding and looking up at Hawkes. "If Silver's willing to forgive... I'll accept her as a mother."  
  
Both West and 'Phousse looked at Vansen, surprised. "Shane?"  
  
"I know, I protested too much. It's obvious that Silver's not totally human and I can't ignore what I've seen on this planet. So, I'll apologize to Silver and I'll accept her into the squad."  
  
"You're a better person than most, Shane." West smiled. "A lot of people would still try to deny what they've seen."  
  
Opening one of the bars Finch had handed him, McQueen asked, "So where's the coffee?"  
  
"Coming right up, sir."  
  
The bar had a slightly bitter taste to it and he gladly washed it down with the hot coffee. "Have you eaten, Vansen?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"You finished, Hawkes?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Take your flashlights and see what you can find in the nether regions of the cave." He saw Hawkes' sigh and the almost rebellious look. "You can do it, Hawkes. It's just a cave."  
  
"Yes, sir," Hawkes said resignedly.  
  
"Or would you rather go for another couple of swims?"  
  
"No, sir." Flat, very flat.  
  
"Then go explore and burn off your energy."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
St. John brought over some of the meat that had been smoked. "Not a lot of flavor I'm afraid, sir, but I didn't have any sugar to add to the brine."  
  
McQueen shot Vansen another look before taking a bite.  
  
"St. John, next time tell me you need sugar." Vansen glanced at West and 'Phousse. "I usually have some on me. In water proof packages."  
  
"Full of surprises, aren't you, captain?"  
  
"It started after Deimos. I never wanted to be short on sugar again."  
  
"Yeah, I know the feeling. Hated that damned place." St. John chuckled. "But boy, did we learn to scavenge."  
  
"You were there?"  
  
"Hell, yes. Of the twenty of us Silver sent down, eight came back. Silver led the rest of them on Ixion. She lost another twelve there."  
  
"Another hell hole." McQueen stared down at his hands, still feeling guilt for his part of Deimos.  
  
"Sir, you had no choice. Once you found out about the Ixion shipyard, you had to destroy it. You had to leave us there on Deimos." St. John looked sad. "There was no other choice."  
  
"But less than ten percent of our forces on Deimos survived. Barely 2000 out of 25000."  
  
"But we held the planet, sir. Those of us who survived, we're history. Every one of the men and women on Deimos and Ixion are recorded, those who died and those who lived. I heard in Washington, DC, that they're building another wall like the Vietnam Wall for all the fallen of this war, all of them. But the names will be holographic so that they can add to the list."  
  
"Small consolation to the grieving."  
  
"I don't plan on adding my name to the wall, but I'd be honored by it."  
  
Russell rose. "We knew you had helped make the choice, sir. We never held it against you."  
  
"War is hell, sir. You are a part of the command crew aboard the Saratoga. As such, we expect you to make the hard decisions, even when it'll cost lives for the greater good." Finch laid a hand on his shoulder. "We would rather have someone who knows the costs, understands it in his gut, than some hotshot who doesn't remember what it's like on the front lines or worse yet, never did anything except shoot on a firing range. We may hate the choices, hate the losses, but we respect the guts it takes to make those gut-wrenching, guilt-ridden decisions."  
  
"Not many understand."  
  
"Not many have had Silver as a commander. We've seen her, and you, making the difficult choices. She's had to sacrifice men in order to save the mission, if she thought it important enough."  
  
"She's planning on sacrificing herself this time."  
  
"What?"  
  
"She said she was walking dead. That getting the recorder to the fleet was worth her life."  
  
"What did she look like?"  
  
"Death warmed over. Pale." McQueen remembered the burns that covered her body. "She's badly injured still."  
  
"Sounds like that's what she's up to all right. Damn. Sir, if we somehow manage to get her on the transport, you realize all bloody hell's going break loose."  
  
"Yes." He took another bite of the meat. "West, you're going to be in the transport. 'Phousse will fly your ship. Unless someone else get's seriously injured."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
McQueen caught 'Phousse's eye and then pointed to West with his chin. She smiled and he knew she would fill West in on what was going to happen on the trip back, to him in particular. He sat back against the cave wall and started seriously chewing on the jerky. When Finch started to talk to him again, McQueen shook his head. "I need to think, Finch."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
An hour later, Vansen and Hawkes returned from their trek. "There's plenty of dry wood back there. Looks like Silver stockpiled. How I'm not sure. The cave branches out into three sections. None of them lead to the surface. But it's not quite as damp."  
  
Hawkes crouched by the fire, feeding some branches in. "How long do we have to stay in here, sir?"  
  
"Another ten hours or so. Sorry, Hawkes, but Silver was adamant. We were not to leave the cave for twelve hours."  
  
"Hope the Chigs haven't found our ships." Hawkes shivered.  
  
"I don't think so. I think that they've been trying to find her. And as long as she doesn't go back to where our ships are, they should be safe. The trick will be staying ahead of the Chigs once we're on our way back."  
  
Hawkes poked the fire, restlessly. "Sir, what's the plan when we get out of this cave?"  
  
"How big is the recorder, Finch?" Time for another hard decision.  
  
"It'll fit in a pack, sir."  
  
"All right. Hawkes, Russell, Finch and St. John will be responsible for carrying the damn thing and getting it to the transport. The rest of us will be support. That recorder must under all circumstances make it back to the fleet, no matter how many lives it costs us here."  
  
"May I ask why them, sir?" Vansen was sitting across the fire from McQueen.  
  
"They can take a lot more punishment than the rest of you and keep going. I don't intend to leave anyone behind, but if I give the order for you to lift off, do it." He fixed the four IVs with a hard stare. One by one, they nodded back, including Hawkes. "It's obvious that we can live off the land here to some extent so if a rescue is authorized, we should still be alive."  
  
"And we can inconvenience the Chigs at the same time," smiled 'Phousse.  
  
"Always a plus in my book."  
  
West nodded. "Two on point?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'd like to, but I don't think that's a good idea, so I'll play tail end Charlie."  
  
"I'll stay with you," said Vansen.  
  
"Looks like it's you and me, baby," McQueen drawled to 'Phousse.  
  
Laughing, she nodded. "I'll go anywhere with you, darlin'."  
  
"How about some songs to pass the time?" McQueen waved Finch over to him. In a quiet voice, he asked, "Do you have anything in your packs to help make sure everyone sleeps for roughly six hours?"  
  
"I think I can come up with something, sir."  
  
"Good. I want everyone to get a good sleep before the trek back. I want to start packing up about an hour before we head out."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
After singing and talking for two hours, Finch rose and started handing out two pills to everyone. "Colonel's orders. Take them. It'll be about an hour before they take effect."  
  
"Vansen, why don't you take Russell back and show him where some of the wood is located. This fire needs more wood."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
As the two disappeared, McQueen pointed to St. John and the way the two had gone. With a grin, St. John took off after them. "Finch, make sure some wood gets back here, hm? Take Hawkes with you."  
  
"You're so devious, sir."  
  
"All part of keeping the troops healthy. Build your own fire."  
  
"Right," she drawled, following St. John, Hawkes on her six.  
  
Several minutes later, Finch and Hawkes returned with huge arm loads of wood. They made the trip three more times before not coming back, having grabbed blankets for everyone.  
  
"Are they doing what I think?" asked West softly.  
  
"You've got them for fifty hours, Nathan. She needs this more than even I did." 'Phousse sat down beside West who was stretched out on his blanket. "Do you still hurt?'  
  
"Yes. It's easier to lie down than sit, right now."  
  
"Take the pills. I suspect they're to let us sleep the rest of the time." She started massaging West's shoulders.  
  
"You know, 'Phousse, I really miss Paul and that damn lucky shirt of his."  
  
"Yeah, me, too."  
  
McQueen sat watching quietly. He banked the fire and made sure there was enough wood in it for the next while. When he started feeling tired, he stretched out on his blanket. His dry turtleneck shirt was draped over his pack, which he planned to use as a pillow. A second blanket he set beside the pack.  
  
****  
  
Warmth on his throat woke McQueen and he knew Silver was back. The slight sting on his neck heralded the pleasure surge through his body and he felt himself responding eagerly. Even as Silver kissed him, McQueen unzipped his flight suit, allowing access to the rest of his body. His free hand he curled around her head, deepening the kiss. He arched into her skillful hand. When she lifted her head, he opened his eyes.  
  
Aware of the two across the fire, he said softly, "Silver, I want to make love to you just once before-"  
  
Equally soft, "I'm badly injured still."  
  
"I'll be careful, I promise. Please."  
  
Silver trailed her hand up to his chest. "Don't come in me. I need the life in your seed."  
  
He stared at her. "I'm sterile."  
  
"Like hell you are. Oh, there's damage from the mines all right. But you were at least forty percent fertile before the regeneration. That famous IV healing, you know. I'd say you're up to sixty now. A vampire always knows." She licked his throat, and then slowly slid her fangs into him again.  
  
As pleasure suffused his body again, McQueen marveled at the changes she had wrought in his life. Her hand pumped, making him buck once, twice. Then she moved down and sucked him into her mouth. He stifled his cries with his forearm as she worked to bring him over the edge.  
  
****  
  
West stared at his superiors, his own body hard from the sight.  
  
"We shouldn't watch," whispered 'Phousse.  
  
"How can we ignore them? I'm as ready just from the sight as he is."  
  
****  
  
McQueen came back to his senses to find Silver nestled in his arms across his chest. "Your turn."  
  
"The children are watching." He heard the laughter.  
  
Turning his head, McQueen could see the two pairs of eyes. "Vanessa, take care of Nathan."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Nathan, return the favor."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"There, the children are occupied now." McQueen gently rolled her onto her back. "Let me make love to you, Lysa."  
  
She lay still beneath his hands for long moments and he knew that she was combating the pain with the pleasure he was trying to produce for her. Then McQueen was rewarded with her arching up into his hands. "Yes," she whispered.  
  
Using all his skill, McQueen slowly brought her to a climax, hoping he could banish the pain for even a short time. His mouth and hands roved her body, avoiding the hideous burns that were too numerous for him to count. As he brought her toward a second climax, McQueen eased into her, using slow deep thrusts to start with.  
  
Her good arm wrapped around his chest and she lifted herself up to his throat.  
  
He nearly cried out as her fangs sank into his throat for a third time. Control was lost and he mindlessly thrust into her, hard and fast. When she pulled away, McQueen struggled to regain his fractured control and did so barely. "I'm damn close, Lysa."  
  
"Roll over."  
  
Obeying, McQueen felt her mouth burning a trail to his aching groin. Her hot mouth sucked him in and he felt her fingers under his neck. As fire burned through his body from her teasing his neck navel, he forced his forearm across his mouth, feeling the screams of pleasure building. His body thrust outside his control, mindlessly seeking its pleasure. McQueen found himself a passenger in his own body until suddenly he was overwhelmed and sent spiraling out of his body.  
  
He came back to himself slowly and was pleased to find Silver still with him. His forearm was taken and she licked the blood his teeth had drawn. As she set his arm down and started to slash her wrist, McQueen said softly,  
  
"No more than what you took, Lysa. You need the strength. I'm a lot better now."  
  
She nodded once and placed her bleeding wrist over his mouth. With a wry grin, Silver took it back a minute later, licking it once to stop the bleeding.  
  
McQueen reached up and pulled her down in front of him. "Sleep." He pulled the second blanket up and over them both.  
  
"The recorder-"  
  
"Can wait a little longer. Sleep." He felt her relax into his arms.  
  
"Do you understand what will happen if I make the transport?"  
  
"Yes. The hunger, the anger, it will lash out at me. I will be hurt, possibly killed. But you are worth the risk, Lysa. I understand the danger. Now, sleep, love."  
  
McQueen stroked her wet hair until she slipped into sleep. With a sigh, he glanced across the fire and saw Nathan spooned around Vanessa. He smiled and curled around Silver, holding her close.  
  
****  
  
He was alone, McQueen knew instantly as he woke up. Opening his eyes showed that Silver had not left though. Finch lay on the ground several feet away, her hands twined in Silver's hair, as Silver drank from her. Silver released Finch and the younger woman sighed.  
  
"Oh, I've missed that. Three months without is hell."  
  
"I thought Deimos, Ixion, Tantos and Dicte were hell."  
  
"They're just approximations of it. Life without you is hell." Finch caressed the bare shoulder above her. "How badly are you injured?"  
  
"Bad enough. When my Hammerhead was shot down, I ejected, but the pit crashed into the side of a mountain on the way down and landed on a ledge. My right shoulder was dislocated and I popped it back, but I still had to climb down a cliff. I had to use the arm. At one point, it couldn't take the weight. I fell thirty feet or so. Broke the shoulder when I landed on it. Internal injuries, bleeding for sure. The burns you can see for yourself. Various other sprains and torn ligaments. A dent in my skull."  
  
"How long ago did you lose the Hammerhead?" McQueen asked, sitting up.  
  
Silver smiled at him and limped back to him, settling down in front of him. As he drew her against his body, she said, "Five days now. I had no luck hunting. I'm a lousy shot with my left hand so I had to hunt on all fours. When I heard you fly overhead, I made my fastest time in the direction I had heard you disappear to. Almost too late."  
  
"Just in time, Silver." McQueen stroked her cheek.  
  
"Then everything becomes a blur mixed with large amounts of pain."  
  
"The Chigs ambushed us at the slope." West spoke softly.  
  
"Ah, yes. Protect, kill, bloodlust." Silver's gaze grew distant. "They've been hunting me since my arrival. But the most they ever did was plasma burns. Bad enough. They hurt like sons-a-bitches."  
  
"Then you led us here." 'Phousse held some meat and she took a bite.  
  
"Yes. It's been my base camp." Silver sighed and closed her eyes.  
  
McQueen realized she was asleep and shook his head when West opened his mouth. He stayed where he was for several minutes until he was certain she was going to stay asleep for a while. Then carefully he rose and stepped over to the other side of the cave.  
  
"How long has it been?" he asked Finch quietly.  
  
"Everyone should be waking up soon."  
  
"Good. Grab something to eat." McQueen followed his own advice. He took a large piece of smoked meat and started chewing. "How did you get the weapons in?"  
  
"Russell's large plastic bag. All the rifles and the pistols fit."  
  
"Then that's how we'll get them out again. When you've finished eating, start packing. Put your dry clothes on top. We'll swim naked and dress on the other side. Where's my pack?"  
  
"Here." 'Phousse handed it to him.  
  
"Wish we knew if the rain had stopped." West lay back down on his side.  
  
"Still hurts to sit?" McQueen rested a hand on the young man's arm.  
  
"Yes. Got my bottom and thighs good. Upper arms, too."  
  
McQueen nodded. "Rest then. I suspect you'll be in a lot of pain by the time we reach the transport. Do you have any painkillers in your pack?"  
  
"Yes, sir. I'll take them if I need to."  
  
"Good." McQueen returned to the other side of the fire and started to quietly unpack his gear so he could pack it again with the under water trip in mind. He cleaned his pistol and secured it in its holster. Everything was put in waterproof bags.  
  
One by one the other squad members returned to the main area. Vansen looked uncomfortable until 'Phousse grinned and said, "Have a good time, Shane?"  
  
A blush crept up Vansen's cheeks. "Yeah."  
  
"Hawkes any good?"  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
"I'll have to try and get him in on my next orgy." When Vansen jerked her head up and stared at her, 'Phousse laughed. "Honey, they were all over me whenever the colonel was flying."  
  
"She's convinced me to try it at least once," grinned West. "Hawkes, come here."  
  
Hawkes crouched before West, worry in his face. "You all right?"  
  
"As well as can be expected. Have you learned how to kiss since you tried it on Shane during that trip to Mars?"  
  
Hawkes scowled at the memory of being slapped. "Yes."  
  
"Good. Show me."  
  
Hawkes' eyes widened momentarily, then he lowered his head and gently kissed West.  
  
Wrapping a hand around the IV's neck, West deepened the kiss. He broke it off a moment later. "Oh, man, I'd say you've learned."  
  
"Are you interested now?"  
  
"Let's say, I'm curious. I'll let you know when we're back on the Toga. All right?"  
  
"Kay."  
  
"All right, people, time to be Marines again." McQueen stood up.  
  
"Yes, sir," was chorused back by the young people.  
  
"Everyone re-pack your gear. Put your boots in a bag so they dont get wet again. We're going back out naked, then dress out there, so pack accordingly. Russell, you're in charge of transporting the rifles and pistols again." McQueen tossed his pistol and holster to Russell.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"How much time out of that twelve is left?"  
  
"About forty-five minutes, sir," answered Finch.  
  
"Do we go out early?" asked Vansen.  
  
"No." Silver's voice was tired sounding. "We'll be exposed. The Chigs regularly move a Hive ship over this area and it always stays for twelve hours. Why I don't know. Fighters, bombers and transports fly in and out for the entire time."  
  
"How did you get in here then?"  
  
"I'm a lot harder to pick out than a human shape, Hawkes." Silver started coughing, deep body racking coughs. "Wake me when it's time. I'll scout the area." Her eyes closed.  
  
"After you've re-packed, eat as much as you can of what's left of the meat. Don't want to waste it." McQueen followed his own advice, grabbing another piece of smoked meat from around the fire pit.  
  
While the others ate and sorted through their packs, McQueen cleaned his rifle before giving it to Russell to pack away. His K-bar he kept with him.  
  
He waited until an hour had gone by before waking Silver. It tore at him to see how painfully she moved even now. Her form shimmered and suddenly there was a four footed beast where the woman had stood. She slid into and under the water.  
  
"Strip and pack your clothes."  
  
Several minutes later, Silver reappeared, and then retreated back outside.  
  
"Let's go, people."  
  
Pack in hand, McQueen dove into the water and swam the twenty feet to the surface of the deep pool at the base of a hundred foot waterfall. He treaded water for a few seconds to appreciate the beauty of the spot, then side-stroked his way to the shore where Silver stood on sentry. She waited for him to get out and start pulling his clothes out of the pack before settling down on her stomach to wait.  
  
One by one, the others struggled out of the water and began dressing.  
  
McQueen finished lacing his boots and stood, K-bar in hand. He scanned the surrounding area. "How long did it take us to get here from the ambush?"  
  
"Three hours. In the pouring rain." Russell started unpacking the weapons. He handed McQueen his holstered pistol and rifle.  
  
"So, with luck we can make better time. The weather looks clear as far as I can see." McQueen glanced over at Silver. "Nearly ready."  
  
She lurched to her feet.  
  
"'Phousse?"  
  
"Ready, sir."  
  
McQueen gave the rest of the group a quick look. West was not quite finished, having difficulty leaning over to do his boots. Before McQueen could say anything, Vansen knelt down and took over the task.  
  
"All right, Silver. Where's the data recorder?"  
  
Limping, Silver started walking along the bottom of the cliff. Thirty feet from the water, she started pulling rocks away. McQueen quickly took over. The rocks shifted and revealed a hole filled with a pack, a M-590 and a pistol. Behind the pack, he discovered a large, flat, square metallic object. He opened the pack and found Silver's uniforms and boots in it. Knowing how hard it was to break in new boots, he pulled them out to place in his own pack.  
  
"Anything else, Silver?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
McQueen dumped the contents and opened his pack. Pulling six rifle clips and two pistol clips out created some room. He slipped the clips into front pockets on his flight suit. Two books and a CD were nosed out by Silver and he carefully placed them in his pack. It took more work to fit the boots in. She also grabbed the collar of a uniform.  
  
"Any one have room for a spare uniform?" He packed the recorder in Silver's pack.  
  
"I'll take it," volunteered Finch. As she took the uniform, she asked, "Didn't you bring a journal, Silver?"  
  
Silver shook her head.  
  
Finch laid a gentle hand on Silver's. "Let's go home, colonel."  
  
"Who's first with the recorder?"  
  
Hawkes stepped up. "I'll go first." He took the pack from McQueen and carried it in one hand, his rifle in the other hand.  
  
"Let's go, Silver."  
  
McQueen watched as Silver took a deep breath and he could see her personality submerge, disappearing from her eyes. The form before him became feral and the pain masked. With surprising speed, Silver turned and loped off, limping; yet moving quickly.  
  
At a jog, McQueen was able to keep her in view. He continually studied the surrounding area, knowing it likely that they would run into Chigs again.  
  
This time, they were able to ambush the Chigs. Silver stopped, dropping into a crouch at the edge of a clearing. Seeing her ears flick, McQueen stopped twenty feet back and sank down into the undergrowth. He crawled up beside her, pleased to see 'Phousse on the other side of Silver, stretched out in the dirt.  
  
Forty Chigs stood in the clearing. About ten were using equipment to study the remnants of Silver's Hammerhead fuselage. Seven appeared to be setting up a mortar at the far end of the clearing, possibly to demolish what was left of the Hammerhead. The rest milled around near the mortar, waiting for something to happen.  
  
McQueen eased himself back ten feet and pointed to Russell and Finch, then Hawkes. He gestured to the ground and he watched as Hawkes sullenly sank to the ground, the recorder held close, forbidden the upcoming battle. Knowing that Russell and Finch would protect Hawkes, McQueen gestured for West and Vansen to move to his left, toward the mortar.  
  
Back at the clearing edge, McQueen tapped Silver lightly on the shoulder. Her ears flicked once, but she did not turn to face him. He tapped her again, harder, and recoiled at the leashed violence in her eyes when she slowly faced him. McQueen showed her five fingers and motioned to the right. Her lip curled revealing the fang and she crawled backwards and headed to the right. He fought down the shiver her actions caused and knew she would attract the Chigs' attention.  
  
Five minutes later, McQueen heard a Chig scream from behind the fuselage. As the majority of the Chigs turned to the source of the scream, he opened fire on the mass of Chig soldiers near the mortar. Chigs dropped like flies, but he knew they would soon figure out where the shots were coming from.  
  
Silver appeared on top of the fuselage, roaring. The Chigs turned and started shooting at her, almost frantically it seemed to McQueen. She leaped down behind the wreckage and the Chigs, ignoring their dead, converged on the fuselage.  
  
In short controlled bursts, McQueen concentrated on shooting the Chigs. He relied on West and Vansen to take out the mortar team. A few Chigs turned around and started spraying the woods with suppressing fire. McQueen rolled and put a tree between them and him. He saw 'Phousse doing the same. On her other side was St. John, also protected.  
  
A roar, and Silver shot around the wreckage and into the Chigs, teeth and claws slashing. She cut her way through the Chigs and disappeared into the woods on the far side, away from the rest of the squad. Only ten Chigs remaining standing.  
  
McQueen rolled onto his back and slapped a new clip into the rifle. Shifting back onto his stomach, he saw only five Chigs. A couple of quick bursts and the last of the Chigs went down. He glanced down the way and saw that the mortar crew was dead as well. Gathering his feet under him, McQueen started to move forward, intending to ease into the clearing.  
  
From across the clearing, McQueen spotted Silver. Her head shook and he froze, frowning, but took the warning. Someone else remained.  
  
He scanned the woods on the other side, looking for what appeared out of the ordinary. Since Silver was moving slowly to his left, that was where he concentrated. The sun came out from behind a cloud and he drew a sharp breath. Light glinted on silver. An AI. How many more, he wondered. He didn't put it past the AIs to allow their nominal allies to be slaughtered, just so that they could have the fun of killing the Marines.  
  
McQueen could only hope none of the others revealed themselves before the AIs grew tired of waiting for their targets. He slowly turned his head and saw 'Phousse looking at him, questioning. Comprehension dawned on her as he drew cross hairs before his eyes. She turned and passed the information to St. John and the others. Unfortunately, McQueen had no way to warn West and Vansen. With luck, they would take the continued silence and lack of movement from him and the others as a warning and stay put.  
  
Carefully, McQueen raised his rifle and took aim. He could see what appeared to be a left arm and adjusted to the left and up a bit, going for what he hoped would be a headshot. Gently, McQueen squeezed the trigger.  
  
A Jacob-D Model staggered out and fell to the ground, clutching at its upper chest. Cursing under his breath, McQueen finished off the AI. Shots hit the tree beside him and he flung himself back and to the right. He guessed there had been five shots aimed at him.  
  
Firing started from his side as McQueen scuttled to a new position.  
  
An AI tumbled into the clearing, minus a head, and McQueen knew Silver had taken it out. Two more appeared, sprawling on the ground. There were at least two more, McQueen figured. He fired several controlled bursts at chest height. Shooting was sporadic from both sides as everyone tried to guess where the others were.  
  
Silver contributed to his side when another headless AI slumped into view. Only one more AI, McQueen hoped. Someone from his side connected with another AI.  
  
McQueen waited for Silver to appear. He heard no more firing from the other side, but did not trust the AIs not to just duck and wait for one of the Marines to become visible.  
  
A commotion in the woods across from him drew his attention. An AI backed out, firing into the woods in all directions. The number of bullets that slammed into the AI nearly tore it in half. Silver slunk out of the woods and sat down. With cat-like aplomb, she started washing her face of the oil and hydraulic fluid.  
  
Rising, McQueen waved the members of the squad who could see him forward. As everyone gathered, McQueen pulled a fresh clip and reloaded his rifle, sliding the two partials into a different pocket. He watched as everyone else who had been in the fight did the same.  
  
"Ok, Silver. Lead on."  
  
One more lick and Silver rose, padding away through the woods. McQueen and 'Phousse kept her in sight. When they reached the top of the rocky slope, McQueen wondered how the hell they had managed to climb the damned thing. Going down was going to be tricky. Even with four feet, or rather three, Silver started small slides.  
  
"Spread out. 'Phousse start down here, I'll move twenty feet to your left. Go down in pairs. Wait till the pair in front is at least half way before you start down. We don't want to bury someone under a ton of rock."  
  
No one ended up buried, though several slides got started. Fortunately, everyone was spread far enough apart that the lower ones were able to scramble out of the way of the slides.  
  
The rest of the trip was anticlimactic. They found their ships, uncovered them and piled in. With a grin, 'Phousse commandeered West's Hammerhead. Hawkes put the pack with the recorder into the transport and McQueen stowed it in a locker.  
  
"Finch, Russell, get us out of here," McQueen ordered as he slammed the transport's door shut. "St. John, get her on a bunk and strap her in. Then man the roof gunnery station. West, you take the port guns." McQueen made his way to the starboard gun port and strapped himself into the chair.  
  
They were just clearing the atmosphere when he fastened the chinstrap of the helmet. "Anything on LIDAR?"  
  
"No, sir," reported Finch.  
  
"Reverse of the way we came in. Shadow of the moon while we make sure no one is around to see us skip town."  
  
As they hugged the moon, McQueen used his eyes to check the space he could see. "Any one see anything?"  
  
"No," West, Finch and St. John said.  
  
"N- Shit! It's one of those damned super Hive ships. Coming up on our tail, sir."  
  
"Finch, tell the Hammerheads to drift to the moon surface. Do the same. Real slow. Maybe they won't notice us."  
  
"So much for a month till they're operational," muttered West.  
  
"It could be one they'd already finished. Radio silence," Russell said quietly.  
  
From his station, McQueen could see the moon surface approaching. The Hive ship did not come into his view until they were almost down. A chill swept through him at the sight of the huge plasma gun port. A dozen secondary weapons ports were visible as well just from the bottom. He didnt want to think about having to go up against one of these monsters in a Hammerhead. A landing bay became visible as it slowly passed overhead.  
  
"Guess no one told the ships they had visitors on the ground," whispered West, hand over his mike.  
  
"Thank you for small favors," replied Finch. "We better wait a while for it to get far enough away for us to slip out of here."  
  
McQueen counted five seconds and judged the super Hive ship had traveled ten of its hull lengths. "At least fifteen mikes. Be on the look out for fighters."  
  
Twenty minutes later, Finch announced, "All right, everyone. Queen, ease on up to the moon's north pole and have a quick look see, hmm?"  
  
"Roger, Trey."  
  
It seemed a long five minutes before Vansen slid back into formation. "Nothing to see. Shall we risk it?"  
  
"Go for it," ordered McQueen.  
  
"Queen, you take point. Jack and Ace, you cover our rear."  
  
"Roger."  
  
By the time they reached the outer rim of the system two and a half hours later, McQueen felt like someone had been beating on the inside of his skull. He slipped off the helmet and hung it up, securing it in place. With a sigh, he slid out of the weapons station and stretched. He found St. John rigging a privacy shield, made up of blankets, across the rear of the transport. His weapons belt he hung on a hook by the hatchway.  
  
"Be damned careful, sir," St. John whispered. "She's out of it. The hunger is in control."  
  
McQueen nodded, not quite understanding.  
  
"You'll get it when you see her. She's out for blood."  
  
"Mine."  
  
St. John nodded once, tersely. "Good luck."  
  
"I think I'm going to need it. Don't let West interfere."  
  
"Of course, sir."  
  
Taking a deep breath, McQueen hoped he was ready to beard the lion in its den. He ducked under the blankets and took a single step in.  
  
Silver lay strapped into a lower bunk, eyes closed, still, covered with another blanket. As he took several more steps, her eyes opened and he understood St. John's remark. Hunger stared at him, soul-devouring hunger. His body froze involuntarily as it instinctively sought to hide from the predator only feet away. Silver's left hand reached up and ripped the strap loose across her chest and upper arms, then the one across her thighs.  
  
She rose, stiff and stilted, almost like a puppet. Then her eyes locked onto his and McQueen felt all of his willpower drain away. The legend of the vampire did indeed have basis in fact, he knew now. Her body underwent a subtle change, the stiffness disappearing as the hunter prepared for its prey. The tips of fangs appeared on her lower lip.  
  
He barely had time to register her weight shifting before she launched herself at him, slamming him into the bulkhead. His head snapped against the metal wall. Fingers like vises clamped down on his upper arms and a knee crashed into his gut. He reminded himself not to fight, to endure, even as he was flung at the rear wall, face first. Hastily raised hands kept him from hitting his face on the wall when she hit him from behind, fists to his kidneys. Then her left arm slid up under his, wrapping her hand over his neck, catching him in a half Nelson. His legs were kicked out from under him and she forced him to his free hand and knees.  
  
Her breath sent shivers through him as her mouth fastened onto his throat. A sob escaped him as her fangs sank into his flesh savagely. Pleasure warred with pain as she wrenched his body into a position of her choosing. Pulled onto his side, Silver released her hold on the back of his neck, trading it for her left forearm under his jaw, forcing his head back until he felt as if she were going to push his skull off his spine. Her shoulder kept his upper body off the transport's deck. Forced flat to the floor, his hips were held in place by her right leg over his thighs, which then curled under his knees.  
  
The twist in his spine hurt like hell and he struggled to relieve some of the intense pressure only to have his head forced further back as she removed her fangs from his throat. Blood oozed down the right side of his neck. Breathing hurt and he could feel ligaments in his neck stretching to the breaking point. As hard as it was, McQueen forced himself to relax, to cease struggling.  
  
The pressure on his jaw eased slightly as she allowed him maybe an inch of relief. As she licked blood off his throat, she leaned forward, twisting his right shoulder further forward. He choked back the scream, feeling his throat muscles convulse. Then the additional pressure was gone.  
  
Her right hand struggled to unzip his flight suit. Realizing she wanted access to his entire body, McQueen used his free hand to do so. Some more pressure was relieved on his jaw as a reward. He jerked though when she again sank her teeth into his throat hard. She stayed there for only a moment before licking him clean.  
  
He was caught completely unaware by her next move. With a hard shove, she slammed his upper body against the floor and released his legs to follow. His flight suit was yanked down around his thighs in one swift motion. The deck felt cold against his stomach and then he heard the sound of fabric tearing. His tank top was ripped off his upper body and McQueen couldn't help a shiver, knowing his hands were still trapped in the sleeves of his flight suit. Head turned to the side; he could see her above him, her hands resting on his hips, fingertips just in the hollows. Her feet were between his thighs and he wondered what she was going to do next.  
  
Claws dug into his hips and he bucked at the pain, stifling a hiss by biting his lip. He watched as her head lowered and he felt her tongue on the base of his spine, just above the short's waistband. The fabric bunched up tight between his legs momentarily, then slackened as she brought her head up once more. Her right hand released its bloody grip and again he heard fabric tear. Cool air raised goose bumps on his now exposed buttocks.  
  
She stretched out on his back, using her left hand to again pull his head back, but not as far as before. Swiftly she sank her teeth into him and he shuddered at the pain caused. Then when she released him, McQueen found himself wrenched up and over onto his back, hard. It felt as if she was going to rip his throat out as she again drank from him, this time from the left side. He could feel the lower teeth digging into the abused flesh on the right side. Her tongue licked and cleaned his throat.  
  
Bites that drew blood were trailed down his throat to a nipple where more blood was drawn. He bit his lip to keep the whimpers in as she moved to the other side and sucked up more blood before leaving a bloody path to his groin.  
  
The flight suit restricted his movements and he struggled to slip it down his legs. With an impatient growl, Silver jerked the suit to his ankles. He kicked his feet free. She shoved his thighs apart and McQueen tasted blood as he anticipated the next bite. He jumped as fangs were buried into the inside of his right thigh. Pleasure warred with pain. His body responded to the pleasure and he wondered how long she would toy with him before finishing him off. Still she drank from him and he started to feel the effect. In his chest, his heart labored to move an increasingly shrinking supply of blood. He guessed she had drained him at least half way.  
  
McQueen forced his hand into her hair, stroking with his thumb. "Please, Lysa, don't kill me."  
  
The fangs disengaged and he felt her lick his flesh again. She sucked on his scrotum and then released it before licking his hard cock. The trail of blood up his belly to his nipples was licked up and she paid gentle attention to the first nipple she came to, laving it thoroughly with her tongue. Then she moved to the other one. She moved up his throat and he wove the fingers of his other hand in her hair. As she covered his mouth with hers, he looked into her eyes and breathed a soft sigh of relief. A form of sanity stared back at him.  
  
Her kiss was hard, demanding, and McQueen let her dominate. When she slid down onto his hard cock, he gasped and bucked gently, his hands still in her hair. She rode him, driving him into orgasm. Just before he felt it coming, Silver slipped off and sucked him into her mouth. The mere act drove him over the edge. Blackness tinged his vision and he rode the sensations into darkness.  
  
****  
  
When he came to, McQueen found himself on a bunk, wrapped in a blanket, naked. He started to move and felt an explosion go off in his head. He groaned.  
  
Finch appeared, a cup of something hot in her hands. "Easy, sir. She drank you down pretty far." She lifted his head slightly. "Drink as much as you can. It'll help both the headache and your body."  
  
It was some sort of herbal concoction, McQueen concluded, from the taste, but his senses refused to identify the smells and tastes. After only half of the cup, he motioned for Finch to take it away. "Silver?"  
  
"Next bunk over. She'll be back to you soon enough."  
  
"Going to kill me if she keeps drinking from me."  
  
"She'll start giving some back from this point on. Try a little more of the tea. Itll help your body produce more blood."  
  
"How's West?" McQueen asked after several more sips and handing it back.  
  
"He's just fine. Russell and St. John successfully diverted his attention from what was going on back here. He's sleeping at the moment."  
  
"How'd you get hot water?"  
  
"Disabled a couple of alarms and used a Sterno can. Try and finish it."  
  
"Did you look at Silver?" He took the cup from her and drained it.  
  
"Yes, she's healing. That shoulder and leg are going to be a bitch, though. The medics are going to have to break the shoulder again. It started knitting in the wrong position. Torn ligaments in the leg will heal in time. Those burns are nasty and a couple of them are infected, mainly on her back."  
  
"We'll have to do what we can."  
  
"I've doctored what I can, but there's only so much she'll take from me at this time. You'll have to do the rest."  
  
"Now?"  
  
"No." Finch let him lie back down. "Go to sleep, colonel."  
  
McQueen obeyed.  
  
****  
  
A hungry mouth on his woke him some time later. Opening his eyes, McQueen saw Silver leaning over him. He kissed her back, gently pulling her down on top of his body. With care, he rolled her onto the bunk under him and he leaned on an elbow. He pulled away from the kiss. "Silver? Lysa?"  
  
"I'm in control, for now." She ran her good hand down his face, throat and chest, down to tease briefly before returning to his face. "Are you all right?"  
  
"It wasn't nearly as bad as they said it would be. Just a lot of interesting bites and a few strains and bruises."  
  
"Yes, I can see the bites and bruises. Sorry." Her hand gently touched his bruised and bitten throat.  
  
"Hey, I'm alive, Silver. I'm not broken into pieces. That's good. I can live with the rest." He winced as she pushed him onto his back.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I wasn't designed to corkscrew. I could really use one of those massages about now." McQueen caressed her face. "But it'll pass. You need to heal, Lysa."  
  
"In time." She kissed him. "Right now, I want something else. You did your usual good job down on the planet." Silver put her nearly useless hand to work.  
  
"I try to be of service." McQueen felt his body responding to her hand. "Let's trade places."  
  
McQueen roved over her body, his hands and mouth soothing the pain, he hoped. Gradually he started to concentrate on bringing her to a full arousal.  
  
Like she had in the cave, Silver defeated his plan to make gentle love to her. The intensity of the sensations caused by her teeth sinking into his throat sent shudders through McQueen as he lost all control and started thrusting with no regard to the consequences. Only when she released him did McQueen know she had come and he was close. Dropping his head down onto her uninjured shoulder, McQueen fought to steady his breathing.  
  
Silver pushed him over onto his back. "Go with it." She moved down his body and sucked him into her mouth.  
  
Arm across his mouth, McQueen moaned as Silver expertly pleasured him. He let his body dictate its own rhythm and came so hard he almost passed out again. Chest heaving, McQueen ran his fingers through her hair. "God, Lysa. I've never had such intense climaxes. Is it because you're a vampire?"  
  
"Yes." Silver returned to stretch out beside McQueen.  
  
McQueen drank from her wrist when she offered it and closed his eyes, remembering what she had told him the first time. He counted to thirty and pulled away. "Lysa, keep it. You need it."  
  
She smiled sadly and licked her wrist closed. "Go to sleep."  
  
****  
  
Silver woke him some time later. "You need to eat."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"A bit beyond me right now."  
  
"Lysa, how badly are you injured?"  
  
"Bad enough. I can't eat or drink anything except blood right now. Finch'll have something for you to eat and drink. Go on." She practically shoved him out of the bunk.  
  
"Hey, give a guy a chance to cover up, will you?"  
  
"West's sleeping. The others won't care. Besides, it's a little late to be modest." Her eyes closed.  
  
Looking down at Silver, McQueen realized that she didn't look all that much better than before. He started to walk through the blanket curtain and nearly jumped out of his skin when Finch suddenly appeared.  
  
"Sorry, sir. I heard you two and figured she was ready to send you out to eat. Why don't you go sit on the other bunk and I'll bring it to you."  
  
McQueen settled down cross-legged on the other bunk, pulling the blanket over his lap and leaning back against the wall. When Finch came in carrying a plate and a cup, he patted the bunk beside him. He took the offered food and drink, wrinkling his nose at the drink's smell. "More of that tea?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Shouldn't she be looking better by now?" McQueen ate a bite of the warmed MRE dish.  
  
Finch chewed her lower lip. "Yes. It isn't as easy for the vampires to heal themselves. They can use their blood to heal others, but it takes a lot more for them to heal. That's part of why they drink as much as they do. It occurs eventually, but the worse the injuries, the longer it takes. Unless they drink from another vampire."  
  
"Which we happen to be out of at the moment."  
  
Finch smiled. "Looks like it, sir. By the way, sir, I'll try to bring you something to eat and drink every four hours or so. It'll help offset the calories you're burning and the blood loss."  
  
"All right. Anything else I should be aware of?" He took a deep drink.  
  
"This isn't normal behavior."  
  
"I sort of gathered that. Any idea what's going on?"  
  
"It's one of two things, I think. Either she's keeping herself in mission mode or..."  
  
"Or what?"  
  
"Or the internal injuries are so severe that her body is merely striving for a balance until we reach medical help."  
  
"Neither one is exactly a great choice." McQueen sighed as he ate some more, his eyes on Silver's labored breathing. "And if she's in mission mode still? If she slips out, she'll come after me again. Right?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"How long has it been since we left the planet?"  
  
"Six hours."  
  
"At least forty-four to go just to reach the buoy. All right. Thanks."  
  
McQueen finished the food and tea. Handing the dishes back to Finch, he said, "Let's hope that she starts healing."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
He sat for several minutes, head tilted back slightly, wondering what was going to occur during the next forty-four hours. Then McQueen moved over to sit beside Silver, stroking her matted hair back from her face. She had moved onto her stomach, facing away from the wall.  
  
"Finch, do you have a brush or comb?" he asked.  
  
"Just a mike."  
  
Finch handed him a stiff bristled brush. "Here you go, sir."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Working out the tangles occupied McQueen for nearly twenty minutes. He had turned Silver's head so she faced the wall in order that he could get all of her hair. The first he knew that Silver was awake came when her hand seized his left wrist hard enough that he lost his grip on the brush.  
  
She jerked his wrist down to her mouth and he fought back a scream as her teeth penetrated both sides of his wrist. McQueen swore silently as he tried to extricate his wrist. Her hand released his wrist and grabbed him behind the head, pulling him down over her body to where she could reach his throat. Fear shot through him at the sheer hunger in her eyes and McQueen prayed that she would not hurt him too badly. As she withdrew from his wrist, Silver slammed him against the wall hard enough to stun him for a second. Her teeth sank into his throat, ravaging flesh already badly abused, and McQueen bit his lip to keep from crying out.  
  
Pain warred with pleasure and McQueen felt his body slowly responding to the pleasure. In an effort to show his willingness, McQueen ran his hand along her side and arm. "Please, Lysa, not so hard. I'm not going anywhere."  
  
McQueen was pulled down onto his back as she rose onto her knees, freeing his throat. Knees on either side of his hips, Silver started nipping at his chest, drawing blood once more. He tilted his head back, opening himself to her.  
  
Her mouth wandered from his aching groin to his bloody throat, licking blood and sucking more to the surface. At last, she mounted him and McQueen let his body go on automatic, using his hands on Silver's waist to hold her up above him, taking the weight off her injured shoulder. He almost growled in frustration when she dismounted, but made no resistance as her mouth sucked his cock in and drove him over the edge almost instantly within a few minutes.  
  
Barely conscious, McQueen felt her roll him onto his side and settle in behind him. Her right wrist appeared before his mouth and as he drank, McQueen heard whisper soft in his ear, "Sorry. I lost control. Should have left me behind."  
  
"Never. We need you, Lysa. I'm done." McQueen knew he hadn't taken nearly enough, but was determined not to weaken her too far. She had to heal, before the hunger killed him.  
  
"Not enough, McQueen. Finch's tea will only help so much. You need to speed up your blood production. And the only way to do that is with our mixed blood. Drink some more. With luck, I won't need more for at least six hours."  
  
Reluctantly, McQueen drank until she pulled her wrist away, a minute later. "Lysa, are you still in mission mode?"  
  
"Not exactly. That's part of the trouble. But if I were completely out of it, you'd be dead by now and so would probably one or two others." She draped her injured arm over his chest.  
  
"I want a straight answer, Lysa. How badly injured are you?"  
  
"If I were merely a tank, I would be dead."  
  
"Oh, god, Lysa." He started to move, but her arm tightened slightly.  
  
"Nothing you can do, but what you're doing."  
  
"Finch said some of the burns were infected."  
  
"It doesn't matter in the long run. They are minor." Her hand touched his cheek lightly, clumsily. "Sleep, McQueen. Sleep and heal. I'll try my best not to lose control again."  
  
"Lysa, don't shut me out."  
  
"I'm not. I'm trying to keep you alive. You and the others. Please sleep, McQueen."  
  
Her hand dropped from his face and McQueen felt fear that she needed to fight so hard to keep from killing him. He cursed the fact that they had no doctor and resolved to have one assigned permanently to the squadron, if he could find a volunteer. That made him remember Adam whom he had known for so short a time. But the squadron had told him tales of the AI.  
  
"Lysa, do you think there are more Adams out there?"  
  
"Somewhere."  
  
McQueen knew he should tell her about Adam, but did not want to depress her further. She was dealing with enough stress for the moment.  
  
****  
  
Silver managed to stay in control for the rest of the trip back to where the Saratoga's buoy waited. Dressed for the first time since boarding the transport, McQueen waited impatiently in the cockpit hatchway as Russell downloaded the information.  
  
"Ah, bloody hell. It's another thirty hours." Russell slammed his fist into his thigh.  
  
"We'll be flying on fumes by then, colonel," announced Vansen, furiously.  
  
"Nothing to be gained by waiting. Set the course and let's go. Just hope that they've got patrols out to watch for us and keep the Chigs off our backs." McQueen let his shoulders slump. He knew he was running on the knife-edge of exhaustion. Between blood loss and not enough real rest, McQueen knew soon he would collapse.  
  
Finch pulled him away from the hatchway and pressed a cup into his hand. Absently, he started to drink it. He frowned at Finch. "It's different."  
  
"Just added a sedative. You need some sleep. We'll wake you if she needs you." Finch faced him unrepentant. "Now, drink it. We can't have you collapsing from exhaustion."  
  
"Go on, colonel. Get some sleep." West rose from the co-pilot's seat. "Everything's under control."  
  
McQueen gave West a mock frown and drained the cup dry. Handing it back to Finch, he said, "Don't hesitate to wake me."  
  
"We won't."  
  
****  
  
A nagging sense of worry drove McQueen to wakefulness. He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, realizing he needed to get a trim. Getting to his feet, McQueen made his way to the water dispenser, wanting to get the bad taste out of his mouth. His bare feet made no sound on the deck as he padded across the transport. Stepping in something wet, his first thought was that someone had forgotten to clean up a spill. Then he realized that the lights were down too low.  
  
The cockpit hatch stood open and McQueen cautiously made his way forward. West sat in the pilot's seat, slumped forward.  
  
"Come in, transport. Anyone there? What the hell is going on over there?" Vansen's voice wavered between terrified and furious.  
  
McQueen glanced at the co-pilot's seat and froze. Head back, Russell stared at the ceiling, a gaping hole where his throat used to be. A look back at West and McQueen saw the blood trail down the chest and lax arm. He pulled West's body away from the console and swore, the console had been trashed, and only the receiver had survived.  
  
Backing up, McQueen spun around. He stared into the darkness of the hold and swallowed, knowing that death stalked him. Finch and St. John were dead, he knew, leaving only him. The only thing he could think of was to somehow force the rest of his kids to destroy the transport. No way was he going to let a berserk vampire loose on the Saratoga. That meant he had to get to a weapon's pod.  
  
He felt for the rifle rack by the cockpit hatch and frowned when he came up with no rifles in place. Someone had moved them. Slowly McQueen eased toward the starboard weapon pod. Trying not to move the blanket, McQueen slipped through to the other side. He froze when his feet touched fabric and something moved.  
  
Crouching, McQueen took a couple of deep breaths, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darker area. He ran his fingers over the fabric and quickly oriented himself to the body. Long hair, so it was Finch.  
  
Fingers clamped down on his exploring wrist, tugging him down. Realizing she was still alive, barely, McQueen leaned over.  
  
"She died. But then an hour later, she woke up. Tossed St. John against the wall, broke his back. Left me for dead. Went forward, then came back. She's waiting for you."  
  
"Where are the rifles?"  
  
"Back there with her." Finch's breath gurgled.  
  
"Finch, I'm sorry. I'm going to fire on the Hammerheads. Hopefully they'll destroy the transport."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't let you do that."  
  
Finch's hold on his wrist tightened, impossibly so, pulling him onto his knees.  
  
Shuffling sounds came from behind him, from the cockpit area, and sheer terror pulsed through McQueen. They had been changed into undead creatures, monsters with familiar bodies and faces. Even as he struggled to break the grip on his wrist, other hands grabbed his ankles.  
  
Teeth worried at his legs and arm. With a burst of energy born of panic, McQueen broke free, lurching to his feet and stumbling toward the gun port. He knew he had no time to aim at one of his kids. It would be all he could do to manage a single shot. Fingers inches away from the weapon's trigger, hands dragged McQueen down to the floor, burying him alive, tasting his still living body.  
  
McQueen screamed, "No!" as he was dragged away from the gun port, arms and legs captive.  
  
He fought desperately, but could not free himself, even as his flight suit was unzipped, baring his heaving chest. Then the lights came up enough to illuminate his surroundings. The mutilated bodies of the four Marines held him firmly to the floor, pinned securely. Fresh blood coated their pale lips, his blood, and he sobbed from the avid hunger in their cold eyes. From the darkness stalked Silver, her gray eyes dead and lifeless until they landed on him. Fear coiled in his gut from the mockery of love in her eyes and knew she intended to make him like herself. A true, undead vampire, to stalk through the corridors of the Saratoga, killing wantonly.  
  
In a last effort to free himself, McQueen managed to wrest his right hand loose and draw his pistol. He fired at Silver twice, seeing the bullets hit her square in the chest, making her halt temporarily. A cruel smile curled her lips and McQueen shoved the muzzle under his jaw, pulling the trigger even as hands grabbed his hand. Pain flooded him, but he knew he had failed as the pain receded and he could see Silver crouched over him, fangs ready to sink into his flesh.  
  
"Should have done that immediately, instead of trying to reach the gun port," she whispered. "Now, you shall become a fit consort for a dark queen."  
  
McQueen screamed as she sank her teeth deeply into his throat for the last time.  
  
****  
  
West stared at the tossing and restless form of McQueen. "Damn, maybe you shouldn't have drugged him, Finch. I think he's trapped in nightmares. He's not going to get any rest this way. It's only been two hours."  
  
"It was the only way I could think of to get him to sleep." Finch sighed.  
  
"Look, I have an idea, but I'm going to need a bit of help. And he's going to fight us hard to start with. Silver started giving him massages to help him sleep and I've been doing it since he's come back." Russell gave a shrug. "It's helped. He seems to get more than two or three hours worth that way. I'm going to try and start a massage. I need to roll him onto his stomach and I need someone to hold his arms down until he realizes what is happening."  
  
"Finch, if you fly for a while, I'll help Russell." St. John stuck his head out of the cockpit. "It'll be easier that way."  
  
"And we need to strip him again."  
  
"Oh, he'll love that." West shook his head. "This trip has been one major disaster. Are they always like this?"  
  
"This one hasn't been nearly as bad as three or four others." Russell smiled at West. "Come on. Help me get him out of the flight suit."  
  
McQueen fought the three Marines, trapped in his nightmare. When they finally managed to slide the flight suit off his writhing body, it took all three of them to roll him onto his stomach.  
  
St. John grimaced as he held McQueen's arms from the next bunk. "West, grab his ankles. Hold him."  
  
Hands running lightly over McQueen's back and shoulders, Russell started singing softly, not really paying attention to the words, more interested in giving McQueen another way of knowing he was safe. It irked Russell that McQueen's struggles were proving arousing to him, and he fought the arousal. By the time, McQueen ceased struggling, Russell was breathing just as hard as his superior. He met St. John's gaze and recognized that the other was just as aroused.  
  
"You know, guys, this is really weird, but ah..." West sounded a bit scared.  
  
Russell snared West's neck and brought him in close for a hard kiss. As West's hands started fumbling with their zippers, St. John moved behind West and ran his hands up hard thighs and over a raging erection.  
  
"Shall we adjourn for a few minutes? Then Russell can finish giving the colonel that massage." St. John nipped at West's neck.  
  
"Most definitely."  
  
It was nearly fifteen minutes before Russell returned to where McQueen lay, still restless. "Ah, colonel. Too bad you don't indulge in a little light sex. It's would make this a lot easier. And you would rest better." Russell started to wipe his hands on his bare thighs, but smiled as he realized that his fingers were still coated with lubricant. He eased a finger between McQueen's tense buttocks, taking it slow and stopping whenever McQueen tightened up. The point came when he could start a gentle in and out motion, the tight muscle relaxing enough to allow it. He added a second finger once satisfied it was safe to do so.  
  
Once he had McQueen loosened up sufficiently, Russell rolled McQueen onto his back. Sliding his fingers back in and making sure he found McQueen's prostate, the young Marine started pumping his fingers in and out quickly. Then he waited until McQueen's cock, hardening under the prostate stimulation, crept out of hiding. He sucked it into his mouth, beginning a fast rhythm with mouth and fingers.  
  
He nearly jumped in surprise when hands gripped his head lightly, altering the rhythm a bit. Russell kept pace with his fingers, feeling the tenseness of the stomach muscles under his other hand.  
  
With a hoarse cry, McQueen came, his hands forcing Russell down on him.  
  
Russell rode McQueen's bucking hips, sucking McQueen dry and withdrew his fingers. When released, he took a deep breath as he sat up. "I didn't intend to wake you, sir."  
  
"Just what the hell did you think would happen? No way in hell I was going to sleep through that kind of stimulation." McQueen sprawled on the bunk. "I'm starting to feel like a god-damned cow. Being milked dry all the time."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I just wanted to drive away the nightmares."  
  
"That you did. Thank god." McQueen closed his eyes.  
  
The sheer relief in McQueen's voice told Russell that they had been bad, really bad. "I started to give you a massage, but you were fighting us and the nightmares. We sort of reacted to that and then I thought maybe a little sexual relief would drive away the nightmares."  
  
"You achieved that objective." McQueen sighed. "Now, what?"  
  
"How about I give you that massage?"  
  
"And Russell, if you ever do that again, without my express permission, I'm going to break you in two."  
  
Hearing the anger in McQueen's voice, Russell said quietly, "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."  
  
"That's not the smartest thing to do to me, especially considering the nightmares I usually have. I've been known to come out swinging or with a weapon ready."  
  
"I'll remember that, sir."  
  
McQueen rolled over and stretched out, pillowing his head on his arms.  
  
Fingers trembling slightly, Russell started the massage.  
  
****  
  
McQueen woke up feeling better and stretched, the sense of frustration having departed for the time being. He did a few exercises before dressing again. Entering the blanketed off area, he found Finch sitting beside Silver. "How long has it been?"  
  
"Ten hours since I gave you the sedative. Eight since Russell tried his new technique."  
  
"Has she awakened at all?"  
  
"No."  
  
McQueen heard the fear in her voice. "We'll just have to hope that she can stay alive until we reach the Toga."  
  
"Sir, do you usually have such strong nightmares?"  
  
McQueen stared down at Silver. "Yes."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I wish there was a way to help."  
  
"Silver was trying."  
  
Finch sighed, stroking Silver's cheek. "She needs more blood. And there's only one way she'll take it."  
  
"But she's not conscious."  
  
"The hunger is."  
  
"Do you hate me that much, Finch?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Sir?" She wrenched her gaze up at him, startled by his words. "I don't hate you at all, sir."  
  
"It would be easy to think it, given what you're suggesting I do." McQueen met her eyes squarely. "You are suggesting I offer myself to the hunger."  
  
Finch could only nod. "I've already tried. She ignored me."  
  
"There isn't enough mingled blood in you. But there is in me." He closed his eyes. "Go brew some more of your tea. Make it strong. I'll need it... if I survive."  
  
"Sir, I don't want to lose both of you."  
  
"Thanks, Finch." The real concern in her voice made him smile sadly. "Let's hope we all make it to the Toga."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
He waited until Finch had left before sitting down beside Silver. "I'm back, Lysa." McQueen twined his fingers in her hair, hoping maybe he could pry himself loose before it was too late. Slowly, he lowered his throat to above her mouth.  
  
A shudder coursed through him when her teeth fastened onto both sides of his throat, hard, and jerked him off balance. He felt blood running down his neck to under his flight suit. "Lysa, easy, please. Just drink. I'm not leaving." Her swallowing dug the fangs deeper into his flesh and he knew a lot of blood was going to waste, doing neither of them any good.  
  
McQueen freed one hand and unzipped his flight suit, thinking ruefully he might as well have stayed undressed. "Lysa, come on. Take what's running loose. Don't waste it. That's not like you."  
  
After a long moment during which he was certain she was not going to budge, Silver loosed her grip on his throat and followed the trail of blood down his chest to his stomach.  
  
Feeling lightheaded, McQueen could only prop himself up on his hands and wait for her to return to his throat. She moved back up toward his throat and he lowered himself once more, wincing at the pain as the teeth slid into his torn flesh.  
  
Weakening, McQueen sank down onto his elbows. "Lysa, I can't lose much more. You have to stop drinking. Please, Lysa." His legs trembled and finally could not longer support his weight. He dropped to his knees, dragging Silver with him toward the edge of the bunk, crying out as her teeth cut through more of his throat.  
  
"Lysa, please, you're killing me. Please, Lysa, stop." His voice grew fainter as he struggled to remain conscious.  
  
The last thing McQueen felt as darkness dragged him down was the roughness of her tongue on his throat.  
  
****  
  
A hand slid under his head and lifted it slightly. McQueen hissed as a hundred Chigs started beating his head to pieces.  
  
"Easy, colonel, I've got something for the headache. Open your mouth slightly. Just enough so I can pour some of this in."  
  
McQueen obeyed Finch's directions and felt a warm liquid fill his dry mouth. Reflexively, he swallowed and swallowed again as more followed. A few of the Chigs wandered off for better entertainment and he sighed in relief.  
  
"Well, the good news is you're alive, though I doubt it feels all that good at the moment. The bad news is she drank you down real far. You've been unconscious for at least eight hours. Take a bit more, sir."  
  
Eyes still closed, McQueen drank until she tilted the cup away. Her hand slid out from under his head and he guessed that was all he was getting.  
  
"Would you like some plain water, sir?"  
  
Moving a lead lined jaw, McQueen didn't recognize his voice as he croaked, "Yes."  
  
"Russell, where's that painkiller? I need two of them."  
  
"Too loud."  
  
"Sorry, sir." Finch lowered her voice and moved away.  
  
McQueen dozed off until she started to raise his head again. He felt his face contort in pain, but could not summon the energy to control it.  
  
"Open up, sir. I've got some painkiller for you."  
  
The pills tasted as foul as ever and he wished just once doctors would make medicine that you wanted to take. Water washed into his mouth and he swallowed gratefully.  
  
"Do you want to try and eat anything?"  
  
"No. Sleep."  
  
"Ok."  
  
****  
  
The next time he woke up, McQueen moved his head slowly, leaving his eyes closed. This time only a dozen or so Chigs showed up to beat on his skull. With a groan, he ran his hand through his hair, massaging the tight muscles.  
  
A strong pair of hands slipped under his and took over the task. "Easy, colonel. Just lie still. Let me do that," whispered Russell. "Do you want some more water or tea?"  
  
"Please. Whichever." His voice sounded rusty.  
  
Russell raised his head and McQueen obediently opened his mouth. He drank the tea poured into his mouth greedily. A sigh escaped when the cup was taken away. Both hands returned to massaging his skull, driving the Chigs away until only a couple remained.  
  
"How long?"  
  
"Another six hours. Think you can eat anything? If you think you can keep it down, it would be a good idea."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Bite by bite, Russell fed him a warmed up MRE. All without McQueen opening his weighted eyelids. Afterwards, McQueen drank some more tea. "Silver?"  
  
"Still alive."  
  
"Worth it?"  
  
"It's hard to tell. We'll know when the doctors tell us just what's wrong with her."  
  
"Hm." McQueen let the darkness roll over him.  
  
****  
  
A mouth kissing McQueen brought him back to partial consciousness. He drank the warm liquid pressed to his lips a moment later, knowing he needed it desperately. A voice told him to feel his body healing and he sank into the process, unaware how long he drank. Eventually the voice told him to sleep and he did so, hearing, "Go to sleep, love. Sleep and heal. And forget."  
  
****  
  
Dragging himself back to consciousness, McQueen felt lightheaded, but alive again. He had a vague recollection of something having occurred while unconscious, but could not dredge it up. Getting to an upright position started the headache again, but it was bearable, a paltry half dozen Chigs busy inside his skull. He opened his eyes slowly; ready to shut them if the light was too bright dim, but enough to see everything.  
  
Biting back a groan, McQueen forced himself to stand up and stagger over to where Silver lay, pale and still. Her chest rose and fell; slightly less labored it seemed to him. He sank down beside her, tired by the ten feet he had traveled.  
  
"Hey, soldier, do I know you?"  
  
Her weak voice was music to his ears. "Considering how much of me is in you, you better." He winced at how rough his voice sounded.  
  
"You'll recover. You look better. Throat's not so bruised anymore."  
  
Gently, McQueen touched his throat and found that the wounds were closed and for the most part healed. The right side remained sore to the touch, though, having been savaged the worst. "Well, you're conscious again. So I'll count that as a step in the right direction, too."  
  
Finch shouldered aside the blanket. "I thought I heard the two of you, muttering. You, colonel, drink all of this." She shoved a cup into McQueen's hands. "And you, colonel, are drinking from someone beside the colonel." Finch stared down at Silver.  
  
"That I can do now."  
  
"Good."  
  
Looking at McQueen, Finch said, "We made contact with the Toga five minutes ago. They're sending an escort. We're still four hours out."  
  
"Four hours. Four hours to regain some sort of strength." McQueen sipped the tea, not even noticing the taste.  
  
"After she's done some feeding, you can have some of her blood. You lost way too much to be doing anything active. In fact, you shouldn't even be up." Finch stared at him hard.  
  
"What? I've been unconscious except for twice. Once with you and the other with Russell." McQueen finished the tea. "I'm going to try and go to the cockpit. If you hear something fall down, it's me." He stood up and slowly, unsteadily, walked forward.  
  
St. John slept on a bunk as did West. By the time he reached the cockpit, McQueen felt like falling down and sank into the co-pilot's seat with a pleased sigh.  
  
"Nice to see you back among the living. Wasn't too sure about you for a while there." Russell handed him a ration bar. "All out of MRE's."  
  
"From the splitting headache I had when I woke up after eight hours, I think I should feel more worried about it, but I don't. I'm not sure why I don't." McQueen took a bite of the ration bar. "How're the others holding up? Eighty hours in a Hammerhead is pretty extreme."  
  
"They've been sleeping as much as possible for the last thirty hours, tying their navs into the transport's whenever they've slept. But they're getting pretty antsy, now. We're so close."  
  
"How soon will the escort arrive?"  
  
"Two hours."  
  
"All right." Taking another bite, McQueen asked, "Are you going to give Silver some blood?"  
  
Russell shook his head. "I just came on and someone has to fly this bird. No offense, colonel, but you're in no shape to do it. Finch was flying before me so she'll give up some. St. John should probably donate. If it weren't for the fact that West would probably go nuts, I'd suggest he donate some, too."  
  
"Thanks for the massage. Drove the Chigs pounding on my skull away, for the most part. There's still a few left, but I can handle them." McQueen turned his gaze outward, staring at the star studded sky, feeling at peace.  
  
"You're welcome, sir."  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Finch appeared in the hatchway. "You can go back to her, colonel. See if you can get her to drink some water. I just tucked St. John into bed again. I think I'll join him."  
  
McQueen nodded. He waited until he had finished the ration bar before rising, feeling stronger already. "Do you know where a mirror might be?"  
  
"No marks left, sir. I looked shortly before I took over from Finch." Russell studied the LIDAR.  
  
"Hm."  
  
Dropping the ration bar wrapper in the trash receptacle, McQueen headed back to Silver, smiling at the sight of St. John wrapped around Finch on a bunk. He sat beside Silver, pleased to see she was still conscious, though in pain. "How bad is it?"  
  
"Nothing I can't handle. How are you doing?"  
  
"Surprisingly well, for someone who was damn near emptied. You gave some back to me at some point, didn't you? When they weren't paying attention."  
  
"Some."  
  
"How much?"  
  
"Enough to keep you from dying."  
  
"Damn. What about you?"  
  
"I refuse to let you die. I'll survive." Silver reached up with her arm and pulled him down to her. "And the reason I won't let you die is so I'll enjoy more of these." She kissed him deeply, desperately.  
  
McQueen returned the kiss, wishing he could do more than kiss her, but knew he was too weak for anything more. Coming up for air, McQueen looked down into Silver's eyes. "I don't want to drink from you."  
  
"But you will." Before he could argue, she continued. "I need you strong enough to handle whatever is waiting for us on the Toga."  
  
"All right."  
  
Silver slashed her wrist and held it up to him.  
  
He licked up the blood that ran down her arm and then sucked on the open wound. The flow of life force was almost palpable to him this time. After a minute, he pulled away. "That's plenty."  
  
The wound closed, Silver pulled him down onto the bed beside her, wrapping her arms around him. "Sleep a while longer. Keep me company."  
  
Sliding easily into sleep, McQueen's subconscious heard the words spoken. "Sleep, heal, grow strong. Drink." Then after a long pause, during which he drank, she continued softly. "Feel your body grow strong, steady. Sure. You will wake recovered. Heal, grow strong, my love. For both of us."  
  
****  
  
A hand on his shoulder woke McQueen. "Sir, we're an hour out from the Toga," announced St. John. "Thought you might want some time to prepare."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
McQueen sat up and raked his hands through his hair, thinking he would definitely need to make the barber one of the first stops, after a decent meal, after a shower, after getting clean clothes, after... He chuckled to himself, realizing he had his priorities straight. Giving Silver a quick look, McQueen made his way aft to the head, intending to use the facilities and the small sink.  
  
When he came out, his face no longer felt so grimy and he felt almost human. A few exercises to work the kinks out of his body and to get the blood circulating made him feel even better. McQueen donned a pair of socks and dug out his boots, lacing them up firmly.  
  
He felt like Lt. Col. McQueen again as he entered the cockpit. "Who's our escort?" he asked Russell.  
  
"The 64th."  
  
"Good crew. Patch me through to our pilots."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Vansen, Hawkes, 'Phousse, how are you holding out?"  
  
"Good to hear from you, colonel. Doing fine. Just waiting to get to the Toga so I can get out of my Hammerhead," laughed 'Phousse. "I don't want to sit in it for at least a week. Think we can arrange that, colonel?"  
  
"I'll see what I can do."  
  
"Is everything all right, sir?" asked Vansen.  
  
"As well as can be expected. Silver's still down, but I'm back on my feet."  
  
"Good to hear, sir."  
  
"Hawkes, you awake out there?"  
  
"Yes, colonel. I want out. No extended patrols for a while, ok, sir?"  
  
Hearing the almost frantic tone, McQueen said, "I can make that happen, Hawkes."  
  
"Good. Cause, sir, it's all I can do to keep my hands off the cockpit, sir."  
  
"Only a little while longer, Hawkes. Hold it together for a bit longer. You can do it."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
McQueen heard the attempt at strength. "You'll do it, Hawkes. 'Phousse, keep him talking. Vansen how's the fuel situation?"  
  
"Fuel, what the hell is that, sir?"  
  
"Will you make it back?"  
  
"We may need to be towed if the Toga has moved any further away. Even a few feet would be too far."  
  
"Queen Six, this is Toga Control."  
  
"Toga Control, this is Queen Six."  
  
"Prepare to rendezvous in thirty mikes."  
  
"Thank you, Boss Ross." McQueen let his heartfelt relief sound in his voice.  
  
"Welcome, Queen Six. This better be worth it."  
  
"It is, Boss Ross, it is."  
  
"Toga Control out."  
  
"Hear that, Hawkes? Thirty mikes. That's all you have to worry about," 'Phousse said.  
  
"I can do this. I can do this."  
  
McQueen knew that Hawkes would need some serious down time before he spent another long patrol in his Hammerhead. "Hawkes, I would have had you on the transport, but I needed you out there in case the Chigs spotted us."  
  
"I know, sir. I'll make it, sir." 


	8. Blood and Souls, Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Warning: Slash.  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter 8  
  
Medics, alerted by McQueen on approach, immediately converged on the stretcher that McQueen and Russell carried out. McQueen turned to follow the medics. He spotted the three Hammerhead pilots. "Vansen, make sure the commodore gets the package."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"You! McQueen!" a harsh male voice snarled.  
  
Even as McQueen started to look for the speaker, a hand grabbed his shoulder, slamming him back against the ISSCV.  
  
"You're responsible for this!"  
  
The man staring into McQueen's face stood the same height, but had a heavier build. McQueen estimated the man had fifty pounds on him. He had buzz cut brown hair, a rugged face, marred by a circular scar on his left temple and a fearsome scowl, all framing flashing brown eyes. The completely black flight suit with no name tag, no insignia, no rank, did nothing to hide the hard, compact body only inches from McQueen.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
Russell placed a placating hand on the unknown man's arm. "Griffon, no! He's -"  
  
"Back off, Russell, or I'll hurt you." The voice went flat.  
  
McQueen felt a sense of dread when he saw the flash of fear in Russell's eyes. The hand was withdrawn and Russell stepped back.  
  
"I have a bone to pick with you, McQueen."  
  
"So I gathered. Who are you?"  
  
"The name's Griffon. And Lysa is family. And you and I are going to have a discussion about your mistreatment of Lysa." The barely controlled rage promised much pain.  
  
McQueen knew the kind of discussion this man intended. He glanced around, looking for Ross.  
  
"Don't look for the commodore. He's staying out of this. It isn't his business."  
  
With a mental sigh, McQueen asked, "Where do you want to have this discussion'?"  
  
"Your squad's barracks. After all, they're responsible, too."  
  
Griffon jerked McQueen away from the ISSCV and shoved him toward the landing bay exit.  
  
As the squadron followed, Hawkes turned to West and Vansen. "Why do I get the feeling they aren't going to talk?"  
  
Holding the pack with the recording device Silver had nearly died to make, Vansen said, "Because this fellow Griffon wants to beat McQueen into a bloody pulp." Vansen watched the way Griffon moved and knew that he was dangerous, even more than McQueen or Hawkes. The IVs had a way of reminding her of cats, graceful and deadly, but she didn't fear them. But she instinctively feared Griffon. His graceful economy of movement struck a chord with her instincts and they screamed at her not to attract his notice; that to do so meant her death.  
  
Vansen glanced at West and she read the same response in his eyes.  
  
On entering the 58th's barracks, Griffon spun McQueen around and ordered, "Strip."  
  
McQueen stared at Griffon, steely eyed. "Why?"  
  
"We're having the discussion in the shower. Now, strip."  
  
"And why should he?" Hawkes grabbed Griffon's arm and tried to spin the man around.  
  
Griffon merely tore his arm out of Hawkes' grasp without looking. "Go sit down, lieutenant."  
  
"I know 637 ways to kill you, man!"  
  
"And as a Colonel in the Black Forces, Lieutenant Hawkes, I know 329 ways to kill you. Each and every one guaranteed to be painful. Now back off." Griffon did not raise his voice nor did he glance at Hawkes.  
  
McQueen felt his stomach tie itself into knots. The Black Forces were the topmost elite fighting force in human existence. Only fifteen hundred of them existed and even a lieutenant of the force could order generals or admirals around. No one questioned a Black Force member's orders. It was rumored that IVs like Hawkes had been intended to replace the Black Force members. But even the IVs had not been able to compete with the Black Force members' training. This Black Force member was even more deadly than others for McQueen recognized Griffon as a vampire. Stronger and faster than even himself.  
  
McQueen fought to still the tremor in his hand as he reached up to unzip his flight suit.  
  
"No!" bellowed Hawkes.  
  
"Hawkes! No!" McQueen snapped.  
  
Griffon's movements were a blur as he defended himself from Hawkes' attack. The watchers saw Griffon spin around, Hawkes double up, immediately jerk upright, arms still going downward to his groin, head flying backward. Then Griffon kicked Hawkes in the chest sending him into the arms of Russell and St. John.  
  
"Hold him. Otherwise I'll have to kill him."  
  
"Yes, Griffon."  
  
As Griffon's gaze returned to him, McQueen saw the barely held rage had not cooled and he knew he was going to be on the receiving end of it. He pulled his boots off, setting them to the side of the door. Better him than one of his kids.  
  
Vansen stepped up beside McQueen. "Colonel?"  
  
"Don't do anything, Vansen. It's between him and me. Keep everyone else out of there. Especially Hawkes. Do nothing, no matter what you hear."  
  
"Sir, he's Black Forces!" hissed Vansen.  
  
"I know." With a sigh, McQueen nodded. "I know exactly what he is, Vansen. Just do what I ask." He resumed stripping off his flight suit.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Griffon kicked his boots over to the opposite side of the door and removed his flight suit in one fluid motion.  
  
The two men stood facing each other a moment later, naked. McQueen noticed the heavy scarring of the man's body and knew his own was being noted.  
  
"In."  
  
McQueen opened the shower door and stepped inside.  
  
The door shut and McQueen ducked, trying to avoid the hand aimed for his shoulder.  
  
The hand missed his shoulder, but seized his arm. "We have a lot to talk about, McQueen." McQueen tried to pull away, but found his arm held firmly. "I don't like it when people hurt my cousin. Especially a man that she tells me that she loves." Griffon pushed McQueen into the wall, face first.  
  
McQueen sank down into a crouch when his arm was released and slid sideways, coming up facing Griffon, still partially crouched, the wall at his back.  
  
"You really should be more careful about who you hurt. Silver is a dual rank officer."  
  
A bad feeling in his gut, McQueen sidestepped the feint to his head and managed to avoid the real blow to his abdomen. He blocked the knee with his thigh, grunting at the sharp pain.  
  
"She's Black Forces, fly boy. A major. And she's my second cousin."  
  
McQueen dodged a fist to the jaw and landed a jab to Griffon's side. An elbow snapped into his arm. Wincing, McQueen backed off several steps, determined to fight. With a sidestep to avoid a punch to his side, McQueen managed to get in close to Griffon and slammed his palm up against the vampire's chin, making Griffon stagger back several steps. He followed through with a hard blow to the abdomen.  
  
The smile Griffon produced sent a chill down McQueen's spine. The vampire's anger overrode the pain and his efforts were only serving to anger Griffon further.  
  
Griffon moved with vampiric speed, his hands slipping inside McQueen's guard.  
  
Backed against the wall, McQueen felt blood running from his lower lip and nose. He had never even seen the blows coming. His head had rocked back under the fast jabs and then Griffon stood several feet away, ready to continue. This situation had gone from bad to worse. He realized that he had no chance to win or even force a draw. Griffon had every intention of winning, decisively. The only thing he could do was try to survive and keep fighting.  
  
After ten minutes, Griffon's rage had cooled to the point where he began systematically beating McQueen. Every time McQueen got up, Griffon knocked him down, using his hands and feet. At the point when McQueen could only get to his hands and knees, Griffon secured McQueen in a half Nelson and lifted McQueen onto his feet, slamming him into the wall, sliding his own legs inside McQueen's.  
  
Griffon ran his free hand down McQueen's side. "Now," he breathed in McQueen's ear, "I think I'll sample you."  
  
Absolute terror ran through McQueen and he struggled with new strength only to find it futile.  
  
Griffon merely held him in place. "Now, to the victor go the spoils. On your hands and knees." He tossed McQueen to the floor.  
  
McQueen assumed the desired position, shaking hard, his head bent down.  
  
The sheer terror rolling off McQueen in waves suddenly struck Griffon and he immediately switched mental gears, remembering some of the things Silver had told him. "Shit!" He sat down and pulled McQueen over onto his lap.  
  
Except for the tremors coursing through his body, McQueen offered no resistance. Eyes closed, he waited for Griffon to use him.  
  
"Look at me!" demanded Griffon. When McQueen obeyed, Griffon snarled with a different type of rage. McQueen was withdrawing, going inside himself to endure what ever was about to happen. "I want your full attention, now! Don't you dare retreat on me!"  
  
McQueen shook harder as he obeyed. 'Damn, he's going to make me endure it,' he thought.  
  
"Hasn't a man ever taken you gently? Used you with care?" The blank look in McQueen's eyes answered Griffon. "Every one of the idiots who raped you isn't even worth spitting on." Griffon sighed. "No wonder you're terrified. I'm not going to rape you, McQueen. You will be a willing participant when I have you." He gently rubbed blood off McQueen's split lower lip with a thumb and licked the blood off.  
  
Cautiously, McQueen looked Griffon in the eyes. The rage was gone and, in its place, was that concern? He shoved the terror back down deep inside himself. "What are you going to do with me now?"  
  
"Clean you up and turn you back over to your squad." As McQueen sighed in relief, Griffon added, "But I will be at your quarters at 2000 hours. Dress as you normally do. No alcohol. Eat well. I'm going to teach you the difference between the bastards who've raped you in the past and me."  
  
"I don't-"  
  
"This isn't debatable, McQueen, at least, not now. Don't piss me off again so soon. I got here ten hours after you went after Lysa. I've had over five days to stew. It wouldn't take much to anger me again." Griffon slipped out from under McQueen and stood up.  
  
"And if I am waiting?"  
  
"Leave word you're not to be disturbed until morning. I plan on using at least half the night teaching you."  
  
"Teaching?" McQueen couldn't help the harsh laugh.  
  
"Yes. Teaching. Ask Lysa. She'll tell you. Now, up with you." Griffon held out a hand.  
  
Reluctantly, McQueen took it. His legs barely held him up and he trembled when Griffon placed a hand around his waist.  
  
Griffon slapped on the water and obviously reveled in the warm water. He cleaned the blood off himself and McQueen meticulously. When he turned the water off, Griffon moved McQueen up against the wall, pressing his body against the IV. A grin of sheer mischief and Griffon kissed McQueen.  
  
Taken off guard, McQueen started to respond.  
  
Griffon pulled away. "Consider that a taste of what's to come tonight. Be there."  
  
As Griffon pulled away, McQueen slid to the wet floor, exhausted.  
  
Griffon paused at the door. "Be there, McQueen. Or else." He shoved the door open and glared at the waiting Marines. "Get your butts in there, Marines."  
  
West and Hawkes reached McQueen first. "Sir?" West took in the slowly bleeding lower lip and nose. McQueen's left eye was swelling shut and bruises were already forming over the colonel's body.  
  
"I'm all right."  
  
"Did he- I mean -"  
  
"He didn't do anything, Hawkes."  
  
"Except beat the crap out of you," commented West.  
  
"Yes, but I've survived worse."  
  
With Hawkes and West's help, McQueen staggered out into the empty barracks area. There, the Marines aided McQueen in getting dressed again.  
  
McQueen contemplated the journey to his cabin and sighed. "Damn. All I want to do is sleep."  
  
"Sir, there's a spare bunk. You could sleep here," offered Vansen.  
  
Shaking his head regretfully, McQueen said, "No. I need to go to my quarters."  
  
Vansen looked at West and Hawkes. "Get him there." She knew she still had to see Commodore Ross.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," West acknowledged.  
  
Fortunately, the corridors were lightly traveled as they made their way to McQueen's quarters. McQueen keyed the door and sank back gratefully onto his bed. He did not protest as Hawkes removed his boots. When West lifted his head and pressed a cold glass of water to his lips, McQueen glanced at West but drank.  
  
"You still need fluids, sir, and you should eat something soon."  
  
Finishing the water, McQueen said, "I need some sleep first."  
  
West nodded.  
  
"Go on, get out of here. Get some rest yourselves. I'll be fine. Ah, damn. I was going to ask about Silver."  
  
"Vansen did. Docs said that it would be at least five hours before she's conscious."  
  
"Thanks, West. Thank Vansen for me." McQueen tried to keep his eyes open.  
  
"Yes, sir. Go to sleep, sir."  
  
Hawkes hung back after West left McQueen's quarters. "Sir."  
  
"I'm ok, Hawkes. Do not go after him. That's an order." McQueen forced himself up onto an elbow and glared at his troublemaker. "Understand?"  
  
Knowing that it meant something to McQueen, Hawkes nodded. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Good. Now go clean up. And tell Vansen no run tonight."  
  
"Yes, sir." Hawkes locked the hatch behind him.  
  
With a sigh, McQueen fell back on his bed and sank immediately into sleep.  
  
****  
  
Four hours later, McQueen woke up, feeling stiff. A run through his usual exercises and at least he could move without pain. He ran his hand through his not so short hair and proceeded to put his boots on. The growling in his stomach told him the order in which he should do things. Eat before stopping by the medical facilities to check on Silver's condition.  
  
In the mess, McQueen wolfed down a large meal, drinking two large orange juices. His split lip bothered him only a little, stinging as he drank the juice. His natural quick healing had already reduced the swelling in his eye. He felt sated at the finish and headed for the 58ths barracks.  
  
He stepped in and found that most of them were asleep. Russell was the only one not in his bunk.  
  
McQueen made his way to Medical, hoping that Silver might have awakened early. A nurse directed him to where Silver lay recuperating. "She woke up about fifteen minutes ago. You'll be her second visitor, Colonel. A young man is in there with her now. Do not tire her out."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Stopping outside the open door, McQueen heard Russell's clear voice.  
  
"Griffon beat the hell out of McQueen, Silver. His showing up and beating McQueen up surprised me."  
  
"Which one? The fact that Griffon was here or the fact that he beat McQueen?"  
  
Russell sighed. "The fact he was here, I guess."  
  
"And you aren't surprised that Griffon pounded on McQueen?"  
  
"No. I knew what was going to happen as soon as I saw Griffon. I did try to stop him."  
  
"And you're still walking?" Silver's voice held surprise.  
  
"He warned me off. I listened. Which is more than Hawkes did."  
  
"Why don't you tell me everything from the beginning. That way I'll know what happened when I see them both."  
  
McQueen listened as Russell gave a quick run down on the events outside the shower room.  
  
"When Griffon came out, he ordered us in to take care of McQueen. He was gone by the time we brought the colonel out."  
  
"Grif always enjoyed dramatics." A brief pause. "So how did McQueen look?"  
  
"Battered. But Griffon didn't use him."  
  
A grateful sigh. "Good. I was hoping Grif would remember what I told him about McQueen. I wonder how close it got, though."  
  
"Silver, why is Griffon here?"  
  
"To answer that, I need you to answer a question. How many of my kind do you think are in the Black Forces?"  
  
"Ten, maybe twenty percent."  
  
"Try seventy-five percent. It is policy to have one of us available when another comes in from extended fieldwork. Griffon will be by later."  
  
"I better get going. I still need to get something to eat."  
  
"Beat it then. I'll see you later."  
  
McQueen hurriedly backed away and started walking briskly back toward Silver's room. He nodded to Russell when the young man appeared.  
  
"Sir, I didn't expect to see you here." Russell reddened when McQueen merely stared at him. "Sorry, I mean so soon. From what West and Coop said, I figured you'd still be sleeping."  
  
"I needed to check on Silver."  
  
"Of course, sir."  
  
"The nurse said she was awake."  
  
"Yes, sir. She'll be pleased to see you."  
  
"I'm hoping so." McQueen touched Russell's shoulder. "Have you slept or eaten yet?'  
  
"I grabbed about four hours of sleep. I still need to eat."  
  
"Go on."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
McQueen watched Russell leave before stepping into Silver's room  
  
"Come here and let me take a look at you." Silver sat up, propped up on pillows with the head of the bed raised. She patted the bed.  
  
"I'm not taking Russell's spot, am I?"  
  
"No. He sat in the chair."  
  
McQueen perched on the bed.  
  
"I see you've met my second cousin, Griffon."  
  
"Is he always so -" McQueen tried to find the right word.  
  
"Forceful? Yes. He can be quite the charmer when it suits him. He was my lifeline when I was growing up. My parents had their hands full with two vampiric kids and along I come, a third. Griffon was a dear when I latched onto him. We hit it off and my parents were only too glad to have someone who could relate to me. Oh, they still loved me, but they just never had the time to spend with me. Besides, being third in line to inherit left me a loose end. So, when I was old enough to understand where Griffon disappeared to for weeks or months at a time, I decided that was what I was going to do." Silver smiled softly, remembering. "He was there when I came into my own as a vampire. He taught me how to love my partners, how to kill and how not to using my natural talents, how to survive in the world as a vampire."  
  
"So he's a good teacher?"  
  
"McQueen, he taught me what making love is supposed to be like. And I was an unruly, rebellious teenager who could inadvertently kill."  
  
"Rebellious?"  
  
"And stubborn."  
  
"No, really?" McQueen couldn't help teasing her.  
  
"Really. Now, why ask about his teaching ability? Unless..." Silver looked at McQueen hard. "McQueen, take what he offers. He is a kind, considerate, pig-headed, stubborn, arrogant, son of a bitch, but he is a damn good teacher. If he offers his skills, avail yourself of them."  
  
McQueen didn't try to protest her all too accurate assessment. "How long will he be with us?"  
  
"A week or so. Until I'm back to complete mental health."  
  
"Are you leaving with him?'  
  
"That depends on you, doesn't it?"  
  
McQueen stared at his hands. "I would like you to stay. Please." He spoke in a low voice.  
  
"Most women would demand that you at least look them in the eye when making such a request." Silver sighed. "But I understand you and I know what it cost you to ask. So I will stay... for a time."  
  
"That's reasonable."  
  
"I'm not looking for reasonable. Nor do I want our relationship to be as it was."  
  
McQueen shook his head to clear his thoughts. "I... I am not sure exactly how to go from here. The squad is willing to try again."  
  
"I'll believe it when I see it."  
  
"That's not f-" Glancing up, McQueen saw Silver was smiling and that the last statement had been to get a reaction from him. "Damn. You know how to play me."  
  
"Only those who know you can do it, you know." Silver lifted her hand and caressed his cheek. "I hope what happened on M33H didn't scare you off."  
  
"I still need to adjust to what you are."  
  
"At least, you're honest." Silver sighed and dropped her hand. "Too many reject outright and can't see past the ends of their noses. Just like those who treat your kind as dirt. There's plenty to go around." Her eyes closed and she turned her head away.  
  
The weariness of her voice scared McQueen. He realized that, like him, she had suffered the slings and arrows of small-minded people. The wounds cut deeply, he knew. It pained him that he had never considered her pain. There was so much to learn about relationships and he cursed again the deliberate maiming of an IV's social skills.  
  
A tear ran down Silver's cheek and he cursed himself for adding to her pain, yet again. He leaned over and held her. "I don't know what you see in me. I keep sticking my foot in my mouth." Her hair had the antiseptic smell of the hospital.  
  
"Ah, but it's such a nice mouth. An absolutely kissable mouth."  
  
McQueen gave her what she wanted. He knew there was nothing more they could do, but he drowned in the kiss. Coming up for air, McQueen told himself he was going to make this work. He needed her as much as he needed his kids. "Silver... Lysa, I'm not very good at this relationship stuff, especially the emotions. I give you permission to boot me in the rear and force me to talk about them. All right?"  
  
"I think I can do that."  
  
"Time to leave, colonel."  
  
Glancing up, McQueen saw the head nurse, Temple. "Take good care of her, Temple. The 58th needs her back ASAP."  
  
The raven-haired woman nodded. "Understood, colonel. Now get."  
  
With a wry smile, McQueen left, headed for a much needed barber visit.  
  
****  
  
Two hours later, Silver woke up to a familiar presence. "Grif."  
  
"Sa." He took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. "God, you gave me a fright."  
  
"You're not the only one." Silver managed to chuckle, wincing at the pain in her ribs. "I knew it was a damn fool mission, but someone had to do it."  
  
"And you were too heart sick to take proper care of yourself."  
  
"Hell, you live on a planet with a base full of Chigs and AIs out to kill you and see how well you do." Silver sighed. "I did my best. I did my job. And no one can fault the job I did."  
  
"You did a real good job, Lysa. I've already reviewed the information with the Commodore, and it's been sent by special courier back to the Fleet heads. They'll be making new strategies based on this information."  
  
"Now, have you worked out your rage at McQueen?"  
  
"Yes. Much to my shame." Griffon bowed his head. "My temper got the better of me when I saw the shape you were in. I kept knocking him down until he couldn't get up, but he still struggled. Then I was going to have my way with him, but I couldn't. He was consumed by terror at the thought and I knew shame for my actions. Especially after what you'd told me about him."  
  
"And what are you going to do about it?"  
  
"I plan on teaching him how it can be. How it should be."  
  
"Good."  
  
"So who told?"  
  
Silver merely smiled.  
  
"It wasn't McQueen. Not his style."  
  
"True."  
  
"Had to be one of your three. The others, they're scared of me."  
  
"They have every right to be. And it was Russell."  
  
"He's brave. And a touch foolhardy."  
  
"Sometimes." Silver reached out and touched Griffon on the arm. "Grif, be careful with McQueen."  
  
"I will. And I promise I won't touch him as a vampire. No poaching."  
  
"You better not. He's still unsure. I don't need him further confused. He's only a low level bond."  
  
"God, your self-control, Silver. There's no way I could have managed that. I would have had him bound to me so tight I'd know every breath he took."  
  
"I want it to be his choice. So be careful, Grif. Don't screw him up."  
  
"I won't. I'll just take him to a new level as a lover."  
  
"I can live with that." Silver sighed. "Lock the door, Grif. I need your strength."  
  
"Good thing I remembered to bring my three plus Michael. I'm going to need them this week." Griffon locked the room door and returned to the bed. He leaned over Silver, offering his throat. As her teeth sank in, he sighed, eyes closed, hands clenching and unclenching. After several minutes, Griffon could sense her fighting to withdraw, to stop taking before going too far. He staggered back and sank into the chair when she suddenly released him. "God, Lysa. How bad off were you really?"  
  
"Bad, Grif. I didn't tell McQueen or the squad the half of it." Silver sank down into her pillow, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, her focus on forcing healing in her body.  
  
Griffon sat quietly, marshaling his strength. He would have to recoup the hefty drink she had just taken from him before he met with McQueen. When Silver looked at him five minutes later, he said, "Don't you dare drink from yours. Not for several days. Loan them to me while I'm here. I can handle what you're demanding. They can't."  
  
"You've been dying to try Russell out since you first saw him." Silver managed a soft chuckle. "All right. I don't dare touch them right now. The hunger is so strong."  
  
"Look, Silver, I know about the broken shoulder, torn up leg, the bleeding burns, internal injuries. What else?" Griffon leaned forward.  
  
"I told them that the broken bones and internal injuries were less than a week old. They were more like a month. I kept flying the reconnaissance. I blacked out during a combat. Had to eject. That part I told them and it was five days before they arrived."  
  
"A month? Dammit, Silver. Why the hell-" Closing his eyes, Griffon dropped his head into his hands. "God, a month, Lysa. How many times did you re- break the shoulder? How much blood did you lose?"  
  
"Enough times that I lost count and enough to have killed a person at least once." Her voice was soft.  
  
"Are you going to tell them?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Lysa, they deserve to know."  
  
"They don't need the extra guilt. I know them. They came partly from guilt. Whatever else brought them to me, there was the guilt."  
  
"They're among the best we have, Lysa. And they came for you. And they brought you back out. There had to be more than guilt." Griffon stood and rested his hand on her arm. "I better leave. You need to rest."  
  
"I'll see you in the morning."  
  
"Bright and early."  
  
Silver watched him leave and pressed her call button. A moment later, Nurse Temple entered. "Problem, colonel?"  
  
"Some water please and a question. Where's Adam?"  
  
Temple hesitated as she picked up a glass. "No one told you?"  
  
Two images flashed through Silver's mind. Adam's face as she handed him the Celtic cross, so torn and lost. She saw McQueen's bared throat, two sets of dog tags and a gold Celtic cross. "Oh, God! What did he do?"  
  
"He killed himself." Temple spoke softly. "It happened the night the 58th returned from their first mission with Colonel McQueen. The colonel was there. He arranged for a proper burial. The entire squad and most of the medical staff attended."  
  
"Recognition at last and he couldn't even see it." Silver's eyes filled with tears and she let them fall. She mourned the gentle soul housed in a metal body.  
  
Temple set the filled glass down where Silver would be able to reach it and left, shutting the door behind her.  
  
****  
  
At 1800 hours, McQueen ate his dinner in the officer's mess. When he saw no sign of the 58th after half an hour, he made his way to Tun Tavern. He started to go to the bar, but remembered Griffon's words and shook his head slightly at the bartender.  
  
The 58th sat at the usual table, the inevitable game of poker just starting. "Need another hand?"  
  
"Always, Colonel." West scooted over closer to Russell, leaving room between him and Phousse.  
  
After three hands, McQueen called it quits. His mind just would not stay focused on the game and he had already lost fifty credits. He sat back and watched the cut-throat way Hawkes and Russell were playing. They would have most of the money for the squad come payday.  
  
A member of the 64th approached Finch. "Lieutenant, could you sing a few songs?"  
  
"Why not? My luck's been lousy. St. John, Russell?"  
  
"You just want to keep me from winning your entire paycheck," groused Russell good-naturedly. "All right." He rose, pocketing his winnings.  
  
"Sounds good to me. My luck's been as bad as Finch's." St. John tossed down his latest hand.  
  
Rousing, rollicking drinking songs were Finch's choice. The sheer fun and enjoyment infected even McQueen and he joined in on a few choruses. He checked the time and saw he should leave.  
  
Rising, McQueen nodded to his kids. "Night. Stay out of trouble. I'd like to get some sleep tonight." He caught Russell's gaze and shook his head. No massage from Russell this night.  
  
A quick shower and McQueen paced his quarters, dressed in his flight suit, but barefoot. At exactly 2000 came the expected knock. McQueen did not bother asking who it was, just opened the door. He stepped out of the way, allowing Griffon to enter if desired.  
  
Casually Griffon entered, carrying a small satchel, his mere presence sending chills through McQueen. Once the door was closed and hesitantly locked, McQueen forced himself to face the Black Forces vampire.  
  
Gently Griffon reached up and touched a bruise on McQueen's jaw that he had inflicted earlier. "Like a deer in headlights. Terrified of what's coming, unable to turn and run, hoping it will ignore him, pass him by."  
  
The voice, soft, seductive, lulled McQueen, making it difficult for him to focus. "I'm not-"  
  
"A deer? No. You're a man raised in one of the most hellish pits the most brutal of men could devise. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I can be just as brutal. Look what I did to you. Unlike those others, though, I realized it and stopped. So I'm marginally better than them." Griffon's voice held self-recrimination.  
  
"They would have beaten me to a bloody pulp and then fucked me until they were satisfied I knew my place." McQueen shook his head. "You are no where near as brutal as they were. I can still walk, talk, and my back is in one piece, not a million bloody ones. You didn't force yourself on me, even though you could have. All in all, you were a helluva lot more civilized than the best of them, Griffon."  
  
"Trying to make me feel better? Should be the other way around, don't you think?" Griffon crossed his arms, placing the satchel in the chair. "How bad did she hurt you, lad?"  
  
"Nothing very serious, considering what I had been expecting. And I am not a lad by any stretch of the imagination."  
  
Griffon grinned. "How old do you think I am?"  
  
"Forty tops."  
  
"Double it, lad. And I've probably got another sixty left in me. So you're a lad to me, McQueen. And I really should have better control of my temper. But I've always had a soft spot for Lysa." Griffon sighed. "I apologize for my earlier behavior, colonel. It was unwarranted, uncalled for, and completely undignified. I'm sorry, McQueen."  
  
"Accepted." McQueen decided to tackle the real issue head on. "Lysa told me I should learn whatever you wanted to teach me."  
  
"Just what did you discuss with her?"  
  
"I didn't tell her what you had in mind."  
  
Griffon nodded once. "I know you were married. I doubt your ability to perform was the problem. No," Griffon held up a hand to ward off McQueen's words, "I don't want to know. Nor do I intend to pry. It's enough that you know how to pleasure a woman. And that you know how to please men on a basic level."  
  
"Basic level?" McQueen remembered everything he had been forced to do in order to keep the mine guards happy.  
  
"Yes. Basic level. McQueen, I know what I'm talking about. I've retrained a couple of mine survivors. Now, if you intend to go through with this, strip."  
  
"If I intend? I thought I had no choice."  
  
"This morning, no. Right now, yes. For about five minutes. Decide."  
  
"And the knowledge and skill you intend to impart. It will help me how?"  
  
"Your own personal horizons broadened and I'll introduce you to a favorite pastime of Lysa's." Griffon leaned against the desk. "A pastime of intense pleasure."  
  
"Can't be more intense than when she's been drinking from me."  
  
"Oh, that's about a level two experience. If you bond with her, you'll easily hit sixth level. But I'm looking to initiate you into level four or better tonight."  
  
"You've actually got it divided out into different levels?"  
  
"Vampires are extremely generous to their bed partners. And we need to know where those partners are in pleasure. We need to know if we're keeping our side of the bargain. After all, there has to be a trade worthy of your blood and life force."  
  
Griffon took a deep breath. "Time's up, McQueen." He advanced on McQueen who backed up until he hit the wall. Griffon nudged his knees to the side with one of his own and bracketed his face between his hands. Brushing his lips across McQueen's, Griffon said, "You're mine, McQueen, for the rest of the night."  
  
Griffon kissed him, demanding access. When he didn't grant him access, Griffon pressed harder for a few seconds, and then looked him in the eyes. "Out of the flight suit now, fly boy, or I'll rip it off you." He moved his hands down beside McQueen's hips.  
  
The utter seriousness in Griffon's eyes and voice warned McQueen. "I can't with you so close."  
  
"Do it any way." Griffon moved his mouth down McQueen's jaw. "Get started." He slid down to McQueen's throat and started licking.  
  
McQueen unzipped his flight suit and shrugged it down his upper body, freeing his arms with a bit of a struggle. Getting it off his legs proved to be trickier, but he managed it without leaning into Griffon. He kicked the flight suit away, feeling a tremor run through him as Griffon licked under his chin to the other side of his throat, the side that had suffered under Lysa's assault.  
  
A rough lick and McQueen flinched.  
  
"What?" Griffon lifted his head, eyes narrowed.  
  
"Lysa was a bit rough on that side. Actually savage would be a better description, it's still very tender."  
  
"I will remember that." Griffon slid his hands under the turtleneck and pushed it up McQueen's pale body, revealing the scars accumulated over a bitterly short lifetime of abuse and combat. Bunching the fabric under McQueen's armpits, Griffon bent his head to kiss and lick the various skin graft scars.  
  
After several minutes, Griffon raised his head and again kissed McQueen. This time McQueen allowed him in and Griffon explored the warm mouth thoroughly. As McQueen responded to the kiss, Griffon rubbed his thumbs over the sensitive nipples. Shivers ran through McQueen as Griffon broke off the kiss and stepped back slightly. "Finish stripping."  
  
McQueen obeyed, pulling the turtleneck over his head and tossing it toward the bathroom. The shorts he pushed down until they slid to the floor and he stepped out of them.  
  
Running his eyes over McQueen, Griffon appreciated the view of the narrow waist, lean thighs, flat stomach, and smoothly muscled chest. "Now, undress me. Show me what you know.  
  
McQueen hesitated, but knew the time to escape had passed. A soft sigh and he ran his hands up Griffon's sides to the taut shoulders before using a hand to unzip the jumpsuit. Starting at the hollow of Griffon's throat, he licked and nibbled his way down the exposed skin to Griffon's waist. A part of him felt anger at Griffon's assumption that he could not have learned more than the basics since leaving the mines nearly fifteen years ago. He decided to show Griffon that he was not inexperienced, even if he hadn't taken male lovers over the years.  
  
Kissing his way back up, McQueen moved daringly to Griffon's throat and started seeking out the sensitive zones.  
  
"Ah, yes," moaned Griffon, his hands running over bare skin and short hair, head tilted back to give more access.  
  
In Griffon's ear, McQueen muttered, "Basics indeed."  
  
Grabbing McQueen's head, Griffon brought him up and kissed him thoroughly. "I never said I was omniscient. A great many IVs from the mines never progress without extensive retraining. If my brain had been fully engaged, I would have known Lysa would not be attracted to such a man." Another searing kiss and Griffon put McQueen's mouth back on his throat. "I still want to discover just what you know. Or think you know."  
  
Sliding the jumpsuit off Griffon's shoulders, McQueen licked and kissed his way along a collarbone to the point of a shoulder and back. Then he went the other way. Back at the hollow of Griffon's throat, he diverted suddenly to suck on one of the erect nipples. He nipped it hard enough to hurt slightly, but not raise blood or even break the skin. He laved the nipple thoroughly before doing the same to the other one. His hands shifted the jumpsuit down over the lean hips and McQueen let it fall to the floor, feeling Griffon's body shift from side to side a few seconds later.  
  
McQueen ran his fingers inside the short's waistband and then slowly peeled the shorts down, running his hands down the firm buttocks. As Griffon's cock came into view, McQueen kissed the head and mouthed down its length to the pubic hair. Dragging the shorts to the floor, McQueen inhaled the slightly musky scent and a whiff of recent sex.  
  
McQueen rocked back on his heels, staring up at Griffon. "Have you fed recently?"  
  
"Quite recently. I promised Lysa no poaching. I brought four to see me through this time." Griffon crouched and kissed McQueen. "No one poaches on Lysa without regretting it. She has a long memory."  
  
"So I've heard."  
  
Griffon smiled. "No fear on that account. For both our sakes, I will not drink from you willingly without Lysa's permission."  
  
"What about my permission?"  
  
"The Saratoga is now her ground. Any vampire taking from Saratoga personnel will be considered a poacher, with or without the victim's consent. And I respect and love Lysa too much to drink from you at this stage of your relationship." Griffon caressed McQueen's throat. "If it were anyone but Lysa, I might be tempted, but I won't. You're safe from me on that account, for now."  
  
"I'll take your word on it then." McQueen stroked down the hair on Griffon's chest. "Now stand up, please."  
  
With a smile, Griffon did so, letting his fingers continue caressing McQueen.  
  
Reassured about what would happen, or rather not, happen, McQueen gave Griffon's cock a promising lick before turning his attention to the lean thighs. He kissed and licked while running his nails lightly over the smooth skin.  
  
His mouth going back to the base of the rampant cock, McQueen slid a hand over the furred sacs, aiming for the sensitive skin behind. Stroking gently, he used his other hand to knead the heavy sacs. He sucked one into his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue. After doing the same with the other one, McQueen returned his attention to the twitching cock.  
  
He licked the precum off before sucking the entire length into his mouth. Setting a quick rhythm, McQueen resumed kneading Griffon's balls. The tenseness under his hand on Griffon's thigh told McQueen that the other was nearly ready. It amazed McQueen that Griffon had the control to stand rock still under the strength of his arousal. Hands on the muscular thighs, McQueen tilted his head to taunt Griffon. Words died in his throat.  
  
Sheer hunger and desire stared down at him and McQueen knew that the control Griffon was exercising had nothing to do with keeping from coming. The wrong move now would shatter Griffon's control and the vampire would ravage his body, sexually and physically. Softly, McQueen said,  
  
"Griffon, teach me."  
  
"Up." Harsh, demanding, fraught with tension.  
  
McQueen rose, not touching Griffon, knowing it would set the vampire off.  
  
"Lie down, on your back." Griffon's breathing came raggedly.  
  
Slowly, McQueen obeyed, not hurrying, giving Griffon the chance to admire his body. He settled down on the bed, hands behind his head.  
  
Griffon stared at McQueen for a long moment, letting his eyes drink in the sight. Long, lean legs, narrow hips, a flat muscled abdomen, well-defined chest although a touch scarred, and a strong face with the most fantastic blue eyes Griffon had ever seen. And nestled in the blond pubic hair a cock well worth the body it adorned. Oh, yes, Griffon was going to enjoy teaching McQueen.  
  
From the satchel, Griffon drew four extra long white scarves. Griffon draped them over his neck, enjoying the smooth feel of silk on his skin. Sitting beside McQueen, Griffon took one of the scarves and folded it lengthwise until he held a very long three inch wide piece of fabric.  
  
"Right hand."  
  
With a puzzled look, McQueen pulled his right hand from under his head and held it out to Griffon over his body. The silk was draped over the back of his wrist, adjusted until it hung evenly and then wrapped several times around lightly. A single twist in the silk and it rose to the palm of his hand to be wrapped around his hand twice. McQueen remained puzzled about the silk until Griffon rose and stretched his arm up to the headboard.  
  
The suddenly tense arm firmly in his grasp, Griffon gazed down into McQueen's panicked eyes. "I'm merely restraining you for a time. Not all restraints lead to pain. Trust me. Trust Lysa." He knew it was a lot to ask so soon, but he didn't have weeks, or even days, to earn McQueen's trust.  
  
When McQueen swallowed and closed his eyes, leaving his arm in Griffon's hand, Griffon smiled gently. He kissed McQueen as a reward before securing the bound wrist to the corner of the headboard.  
  
"Relax, McQueen. I have no intention of harming you at all." Sitting back down, Griffon held out his hand as McQueen stared silently at him. It took McQueen a moment, but the other hand was placed in his. Griffon couldn't help but notice that McQueen's eyes had become ice pale, nearly translucent in his fear. The blood had drained from McQueen's skin as he fought the flight instinct his body demanded.  
  
A moment later, Griffon ran his hands down both taut arms, letting his fingers dance over the pale skin. He kneaded the tense armpits for a minute before taking the pillow out from under McQueen's head. Doubling it, he said,  
  
"Lift your hips."  
  
Still silent, McQueen obeyed, settling and lifting again until Griffon had the pillow situated just right.  
  
His knees outside McQueen's slightly parted thighs, Griffon started stroking the pale skin, seeking to drive the panic away. Panic had overcome arousal and he wanted to bring back that magnificent cock. His own arousal had eased a bit and Griffon knew he could concentrate on the task at hand.  
  
"It's light bondage, McQueen, the giving up of control to someone else. To someone we trust not to abuse the privilege. It helps us deal with the stresses of command, knowing that we can surrender all control for a time to someone else. Lysa and I both enjoy surrendering control, though we both have to work at it, and having total control over another. It's not slavery. We don't order the yielder to do things against their nature or will. Except for giving up the control."  
  
Griffon kissed McQueen, hovering over the tightened lips. "Will you give me that control, McQueen?"  
  
Silently, McQueen jerked on his arms.  
  
"Say the word and I'll release you. On my honor. All you have to do at anytime is tell me to stop. It is your choice."  
  
Conflict raged in McQueen's eyes, behind the mask, and Griffon waited, knowing not to press. A soft sigh and McQueen surrendered, tilting his head back slightly and closing his eyes.  
  
"That's the man I expected to see. Rising to the challenge." Griffon rewarded McQueen with licks and nibbles all over the bared throat.  
  
When Griffon slid off the bed and ran his hands down McQueen's legs, McQueen spread them under the silent prompting. The last two scarves were used to secure McQueen's ankles to the lower corners of the bed with enough slack so that his legs could bend a bit.  
  
"Not as open as I would like," Griffon remarked, standing at the foot of the bed. "But it will do. God, McQueen, you're a feast for the eyes."  
  
Removing several items from the satchel, Griffon placed them between the spread legs. A bottle in his hands, Griffon straddled the lean hips and poured oil into his hands. "Now, McQueen, I would recommend that you invest in some massage oils that are non-toxic or, even better, edible. I'm sure Lysa can accommodate you for the present and even help you discover where and how to order it. This one is raspberry flavored."  
  
The oil warmed, the vampire started rubbing it onto McQueen's body, starting at the throat. Firm, sure strokes worked it in and Griffon even rubbed some on the smooth cheeks and jaw. "A good oil will greatly enhance the experience for both of you."  
  
Down the length of McQueen's body, Griffon worked the oil in. He poured more oil in his hand and worked it into McQueen's buttocks and made sure plenty was between the two cheeks. Standing again, and running his eyes over the well-oiled body, Griffon couldn't help grinning. "You are absolutely delicious, McQueen. Ah, for some whipped cream or melted chocolate." Griffon laughed at the indignant look on McQueen's face. "What? No games with your wife? Don't know what you're missing. Oh, well, I'm sure Lysa will teach you those games."  
  
Griffon settled down across the inviting hips. Reaching behind him, he found what he was searching for and brought it up where McQueen could see the long black feather.  
  
"Tickling?"  
  
The single terse word made Griffon smile broadly. "Only when the other person can tickle back. No, the feather is a tool to make you forget about your troubles."  
  
In strokes that did not tickle, Griffon ran the feather over the displayed upper body. In ears, over all the revealed flesh, dipping in the armpits briefly, the feather teased and worked its magic on McQueen, arousing the bound man until he lay quivering under the assault. Griffon moved himself down between the spread legs and expanded the area of his attack. From knee to ear, Griffon played the feather, ignoring the now erect cock.  
  
A light brush across the testicles made McQueen gasp and buck. Up the rampant cock to swirl about the head and McQueen groaned, thrusting up, seeking something to create friction.  
  
"Oh, no, my lad. You're not coming for some time." Griffon ran the feather over McQueen's throat and admired the oiled and lightly sweating form. Chest heaving and slowly recovering, McQueen gleamed in the light.  
  
Griffon waited until McQueen's breathing had steadied before renewing the feather assault. Quickly McQueen regained the previous intensity and learned that more could be dragged from him. The feather played over McQueen, driving him mad with need. He started to beg for relief.  
  
Instead Griffon eased the feather work, allowing McQueen a breather. He laid the feather down on McQueen's chest and prepared the next step, out of McQueen's sight.  
  
"Now what?" managed McQueen.  
  
"I strip a few more layers of control away." Picking up the feather, Griffon soon had McQueen writhing under every touch. Drawing the feather up McQueen's cock, Griffon pressed a finger against his tight opening. The feather was removed and McQueen hesitated on impaling himself.  
  
"I have no intention of causing you any pain. Tell me if anything hurts and I will stop immediately."  
  
After a second, McQueen forced himself down on the waiting finger. The feather caressed the length of his cock again and McQueen rose, only to slide a little easier on the down stroke. Repeating until the finger moved easily, McQueen was almost ready when a second finger joined the first. A brief hesitation and McQueen sank down onto them both. Eventually a third finger appeared.  
  
All three fingers moving easily, McQueen rose with the feather and was held up while the fingers left him, feeling oddly bereft. The feather released him and McQueen sank down onto something solid and slightly larger than the fingers. He slid down it and was rewarded with it stroking his prostate. Fire swept through McQueen, making him moan.  
  
The feather beckoned him up and McQueen soon sank into the rhythm, his body taking over and mindlessly fucking itself. He flung his head back and begged incoherently for release.  
  
Stopping the action, Griffon waited, eager to see just how little control remained.  
  
Sweat and oil mingled equally on the thrashing McQueen. It took several minutes before McQueen could lie quietly, though he breathed hard.  
  
"Enjoying yourself?" Griffon smiled at the fierce scowl McQueen gave him. Leaning over McQueen, Griffon said softly, "Just FYI, McQueen, you don't get to come until I've shredded every control but one. The only control I want you to maintain is the one keeping you from coming until I say you can. I plan on driving you higher and higher until that is all that remains. And then, if you've been good, I'll drive you til you come. Understand?"  
  
"Yes," came the ragged answer.  
  
Pleased, Griffon picked up the feather again. He soon had McQueen intensely aroused. Time to switch tactics slightly, he decided. Instead of the feather, Griffon sucked on the quivering cock head several times before burying the entire length in his throat. It took only a minute for McQueen to lose all ability to stop his body from mindlessly fucking itself. His pleas were half-formed, unfinished, as he rocked back and forth between two extremely mind-blowing pleasures.  
  
His cock suddenly released from the warm mouth and hands holding his hips down made McQueen sob in frustration.  
  
"Easy, McQueen, easy. You're not ready yet."  
  
Griffon ran his hands firmly over the still thrashing body, massaging the taut muscles. He worked the straining body until McQueen lay more or less still on the bed. "Good lad. Now, are you ready for another session?"  
  
"Yes." McQueen closed his eyes, wondering how much longer this sexual torture was going to continue.  
  
"You're doing quite well. One or two more times, depending on how easily you release your control, and then I'll let you come." Griffon stopped massaging and leaned over McQueen, kissing the full lips. Access was granted immediately and Griffon allowed himself the pleasure of exploring. He pulled back at last and caressed the parted lips with a finger. His finger was taken and sucked on. Griffon allowed it for several minutes, enjoying the sensation. Reluctantly, he freed his finger and sat back.  
  
McQueen arched off the bed when his cock was sucked into Griffon's mouth. Within seconds, McQueen succumbed to the pleasure inducing rhythm, begging and pleading for release. His pleas became half-formed as he started sobbing for breath.  
  
Once more, Griffon stopped arousing McQueen; pleased by the almost vented scream of sheer frustration his victim gave. He eased McQueen down slowly, enjoying the feel of the sleek body writhing beneath his hands. "God, you are a beautiful sight, McQueen. Such wantonness in so tightly controlled a person. And I suspect I'm the only one who's ever seen it." Griffon hovered over McQueen's lips. "You've such an incredible body, McQueen. I'm very pleased by your responses."  
  
Casting aside all control, self-restraint, and dignity, McQueen raised his mouth to Griffon's, begging with his parted lips for more.  
  
Griffon kissed him deeply, taking his offered mouth. "If you continue to respond uncontrolled, I'll let you come this time. But at the first sign of restraint on your part, I'll back off. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes," McQueen managed breathlessly.  
  
The fire in McQueen's sapphire eyes made Griffon smile with delicious anticipation. "You must, though, fight to keep from coming. Can you do that?"  
  
"Yes," McQueen groaned.  
  
"Good, McQueen."  
  
****  
  
The final assault entailed the use of fingers and tongue. By the time Griffon reached the hollow of his throat, McQueen had succumbed to the raging fire. Every touch, every lick, made him shudder and writhe, half finished pleas falling from his lips. Down to his knees then up to the hollow of his hips, the fingers and tongue tortured him with delicious agony. A slow lick ended with the head of his cock in Griffon's mouth and he thrust up; knowing when he came down the dildo would be there. McQueen impaled himself on the dildo, forcing it deeper than it had gone yet, and waited a half second, wondering if Griffon had a rhythm in mind. The torturous tongue swirled the head of his cock and he thrust into the waiting mouth, banishing all control except one.  
  
Again Griffon took his entire length and McQueen fucked himself without restraint, abandoning all control, except the one. McQueen felt his ability to keep from coming shredding and struggled to regain it, knowing only that he had to keep from coming. It slipped further and his body started bucking harder, faster, sensing the upcoming long denied release. A final frantic thrust upward and McQueen exploded, screaming, mind and body parting company for a time.  
  
****  
  
The mindlessly thrusting hips were allowed to continue as Griffon drank him dry, riding the pulsing cock head, enjoying the taste of this most intimate part of McQueen. It kept coming, the long denial pumping McQueen empty. When at last McQueen's body stilled, Griffon removed the dildo, setting it on the desk. After a last long lick on the still twitching cock, Griffon reached up to undo the silk on his wrists. McQueen lay unmoving, his chest heaving, eyes closed, head partly turned to the side. Griffon kissed the racing pulse, inhaling the scent of a thoroughly sated lover, licking the bared throat. Releasing McQueen's ankles, Griffon stood, looking down at McQueen's stretched out, sweat soaked body and smiled. McQueen hadn't even moved and Griffon knew he'd be out of it for a while longer. Griffon sat at the head of the bed, hand stroking McQueen's dampened hair.  
  
****  
  
Touch was the first sense that returned to McQueen. Someone was rubbing, no, stroking his temple. His body, on its side, felt cool and the blanket under him scratched his skin. A lean muscled leg lay under his head.  
  
Then smell. The heady smell of raspberries, honest sweat and sex hit him. McQueen groaned and felt incredibly thirsty.  
  
The mouth of a bottle was placed to his lips and McQueen drank greedily of the cool water. He opened his eyes and saw Griffon looking down at him. The hard abdomen was only inches away as was the still hard cock.  
  
"You didn't... I mean, you could have." He took hold of the bottle.  
  
"I want you fully aware of what's going on when I take you, McQueen. Now, while you finish drinking that bottle, put the other hand there to good use."  
  
McQueen reached up with his left hand and stroked the hard shaft while drinking the water, trying to relieve the thirst.  
  
"You lost a fair amount of water there, McQueen. You fought losing control pretty hard. Remember that if Lysa allows you to do this to her that you need to have water on hand. Not alcohol, Just plain cool water. She'll fight like the dickens to keep control, no matter how easily she submits." Griffon ran his fingers over the scarred throat skin. "Ah, but you were fantastic once you let me control you."  
  
"You called me wanton." He couldn't look at the other man, a sense of shame running through him.  
  
"Yes, as in sexually unrestrained. It was beautiful to watch you fuck yourself, unable to control your body in the slightest, and I could see you reveling in it at the end. You did enjoy it, McQueen."  
  
Softly, McQueen admitted, "Yes."  
  
"And you feel better, don't you? Some of the burden of the weight of command has slipped away. Or rather it just doesn't matter so much now."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You can live with yourself a little easier now."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That's the beauty of this. Lysa will need this, but not until she's healed. This last mission required so much control, she needs to desperately relinquish it for even an hour." Griffon sighed. "Ah, but that feels so good." Griffon thrust his hips up slightly, almost dislodging McQueen.  
  
The bottle finished, McQueen tossed it toward the bathroom, for once not bothering with neatness. He rolled onto his stomach and sucked on the head of Griffon's cock. He used his tongue to fuck the cock slit as he sucked hard. Griffon's hands clenched the blanket and McQueen knew it was to keep from grabbing his head. The vampire did not want to force him to do this. McQueen tugged downward on Griffon's hips and the other slid down to lie flat. McQueen did not need to even move his head; Griffon started thrusting up into his mouth as deep as allowed. At first, McQueen did not deep throat him, but then he lowered his head, taking the entire length. A groan was ripped from Griffon.  
  
Despite how fantastic it felt to be fucking McQueen's face, Griffon did not want to come in that end first. After a few minutes, he grabbed McQueen's head and pulled him off, bringing him up for a deep kiss. "Hands and knees, McQueen."  
  
McQueen took a deep breath, swallowed and obeyed, turning around in the process. His mind was still uneasy about the prospect of getting fucked by Griffon, but his body most definitely was not. His body had already hardened at the prospect and he could feel heat in his belly. He felt Griffon slide off the bed and pull backwards on his hips until his knees were on the edge of the bed. Then slowly he felt Griffon enter him until buried completely and they both waited.  
  
The waiting got to McQueen and he decided to get them started. He rocked forward slightly, then back, stroking his prostate, sending tendrils of fire through his body. Again he rocked, further this time; more fire.  
  
"Do you want this, McQueen?"  
  
"Yes," McQueen moaned, giving in, surrendering once more.  
  
"Good. I've waited all day for this." Griffon pulled back and slammed home, nearly knocking McQueen off his hands and knees. He started a hard and fast rhythm.  
  
McQueen shuddered at the intense sensations; it was better than the dildo. God, if someone had done this to him in his early life, the rapes would have been almost bearable. To know that it could feel so damn good, it would have given him something to grasp, to hold onto through the hellish time.  
  
When McQueen was matching his thrusts, Griffon wrapped an arm around his chest and pulled him upright. He licked the navel lightly, sending shudders through McQueen, who bowed his head, completely submissive. A gentle suck made McQueen buck, impaling himself hard on Griffon. Steady sucking soon drove McQueen into a frenzy of bucking and thrashing, forcing Griffon to use both hands to hold him as he fucked himself. Holding McQueen tight against his chest, Griffon daringly sucked hard. The resultant spasm nearly knocked Griffon off his feet, but it felt great on his cock. He sucked hard again, ready for the action. McQueen's body writhed in his arms as he continued to suck gently, enjoying the sensation of McQueen fucking himself on his cock.  
  
Needing to give his arms a break, Griffon lowered McQueen onto the bed, his mouth still sucking on the other's navel. Then Griffon stopped sucking and lay over McQueen, keeping his weight off with his elbows, waiting for rationality to return.  
  
McQueen's eyes closed, his chest heaving, and it took several minutes for him to be aware of his surroundings. "Oh, god," he groaned.  
  
"McQueen, do you want this?"  
  
"Yes, damn you."  
  
"Tell me what you want."  
  
"Fuck me, dammit. Just do it. Fuck me hard." McQueen bucked his hips up into Griffon. "I want you to fuck my brains out."  
  
"And the neck navel? Shall I continue?"  
  
"If you do, I won't last a minute," admitted McQueen. "I was on the verge. Wait until you're ready to make me come. Then suck hard."  
  
"Very well. But you do not come until then." Griffon rose onto his hands.  
  
"Got it. Now fuck me, Griffon." McQueen bucked again.  
  
"Impatient, are we?" Griffon started moving slowly and when McQueen tried to speed it up, he slapped the rising ass. "Down. I'm in control. You do only what I tell you. And I haven't said you can move."  
  
Just to see how far he could drive McQueen, Griffon kept the pace slow. After five minutes, McQueen was twisting futilely on the bed.  
  
"Please, Griffon, fuck me. Don't gentle me to death. Not this time. I need it hard and fast. Please, Griffon," McQueen pleaded.  
  
"I'll think about it." With a grin that McQueen couldn't see, Griffon kept the same pace for two more cycles, and then slammed home hard.  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"You may move." Griffon started pistoning into McQueen, hard and fast, feeling McQueen bucking up to meet each thrust.  
  
McQueen's hands were clenched in the blanket, his arms taut, as he gathered his elbows under his chest to give him some extra leverage. Flames ran through McQueen, fueling the fire that raged beneath his skin. He found himself moaning with every thrust, begging for more, begging to be fucked. Then when he felt it couldn't keep going, Griffon licked his navel, sending a firestorm through him. McQueen thrashed on the bed, hips pumping.  
  
"Oh, god, yes! Fire. I'm burning up. I'm going to melt!"  
  
"Not yet."  
  
Griffon fucked McQueen, driving McQueen mad with the occasional licks on the navel. Then, feeling himself reaching the edge, he clamped down on McQueen's navel and sucked hard as he thrust himself deeper yet.  
  
McQueen screamed, his entire body bucking madly, as he climaxed.  
  
The muscle contractions brought Griffon over and he bit down on McQueen's shoulder, stifling his cry of pleasure.  
  
Licking the blood he had drawn, Griffon closed his eyes, forcing his body to remain up until McQueen had stopped thrashing. At last, Griffon laid down gently on McQueen, kissing the reddened navel, giving it a light lick, sending shudders through McQueen. He slid off to the side and after a moment went to the bathroom to clean up.  
  
McQueen had managed to roll onto his side, still breathing hard, when Griffon returned with a warm, moist washcloth and a towel in hand. McQueen could only close his eyes as Griffon cleaned him up. The towel was spread over the wet spot on the blanket.  
  
"Should have put that down first," grinned Griffon. "But I wasn't thinking about that at the time." He ran his hand down from McQueen's throat to the now not nearly so hard cock. "You were as good as I was expecting."  
  
"Glad to oblige," muttered McQueen.  
  
Chuckling, Griffon kissed McQueen. "Don't get your cock in a knot, McQueen. I figured you'd be good. Lysa never picks men who are poor performers." Griffon slashed his wrist. "I bit you and you need to heal a bit faster than normal. So drink."  
  
McQueen drank, knowing better than to refuse. After several swallows, he pulled away. "That's enough. It wasn't a serious bite."  
  
"True, but Lysa would skin me if I left you without healing." Griffon licked his wrist and reached into his satchel again, pulling out another bottle of water. He drank about half and handed the rest to McQueen.  
  
"Now, what?" McQueen asked, once the water was gone.  
  
"We take a breather."  
  
"I'm all for that." McQueen pulled himself all the way onto the bed and closed his eyes.  
  
Griffon tossed the pillow back up to the head of the bed and dragged McQueen up to it. Then he stretched out beside McQueen. He watched as McQueen drifted almost immediately into sleep. He stroked the pale throat skin. The lines of strain eased around McQueen's mouth, making him appear more youthful. In addition, the habitual tightness of the lean body slackened, and Griffon rubbed his hand over the shoulders and neck. After a while, Griffon leaned back and slept. 


	9. Blood and Souls, Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Warning: Slash, language.  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter 9  
  
At 0530, McQueen's alarm woke him from a sound sleep. As he slapped it off, McQueen ruefully mocked to himself, "Want to sleep six hours? Just get fucked out of your mind beforehand."  
  
His body ached and certain areas were sore from the extensive workout Griffon had given him before leaving at 2330. Not even bothering with a shower, he had just dropped onto his stripped down bed and fallen asleep. Kicking the soiled blanket out from under his feet, McQueen rose and staggered into the bathroom. He showered longer than normal, erasing all traces of sex hopefully.  
  
Dressing, McQueen admitted to himself that he did feel better, having given control of the evening over to Griffon. Three more times Griffon had taken him, twice with them both paying more attention to the other, like considerate lovers. The last time, Griffon had seized full control again, binding his wrists to the headboard and fucking him hard on his back. When he had been almost there, Griffon had started breaking his controls again. It had taken four or five times before all control had been stripped away and he had resorted to begging Griffon to fuck him. It had been nearly as powerful as the first time Griffon had taken him.  
  
After each time, Griffon had made sure he drank water and, after the next to last time, had insured that he had actually eaten an energy bar. McQueen didn't want to think about how wiped out he would be feeling if Griffon hadn't done that. McQueen shook his head as he finished lacing his boots and stretched before heading out the door.  
  
At the Officers' Mess, McQueen piled a larger than normal amount of food on his plate and sat down to eat. He was nearly half way through when Griffon's voice came from behind him, "Sleep well, colonel?"  
  
"Yes. And you?"  
  
Griffon pulled a chair out and sat down opposite McQueen. "Oh, yes. I've been up for an hour already. Silver was awake fifteen minutes ago. And she's fed the hunger."  
  
"You?"  
  
"Part of the reason I was up so early. I had to be ready for her. Until her hunger is satisfied, I'm the only one she'll be drinking from. I can take the damage she's inflicting. Not even her three could handle this."  
  
"How bad is it really? I know she was lying to me about it, but I figured I shouldn't push it."  
  
"How long did she tell you she had those injuries?"  
  
"Which ones? The broken shoulder, not quite a week. The others, a bit longer."  
  
"A month."  
  
McQueen closed his eyes. When he opened them, he did not hide the pain. "A month. No wonder she had so much trouble keeping control. God, we were lucky she didn't kill us." He remembered the nightmares and shuddered. His subconscious had known.  
  
"What?"  
  
"My subconscious picked up on the clues and gave me some appropriate nightmares on the trip back." McQueen pushed what was left on his plate away.  
  
"Eat. You're going to need the strength."  
  
"I've lost my appetite."  
  
"That bad, huh?" When McQueen nodded, Griffon sighed. "I know how that is. But you're a Marine, remember? Eat and sleep whenever possible. So eat. No matter how your psyche feels."  
  
It took McQueen an effort, but he finished the meal. "So is it safe to see her?"  
  
"Definitely. I'll be paying her visits throughout the day and night to feed her. Once the hunger is under control, I can cut back to once or twice a day. Which will be good, otherwise she'll drink me dry. Did you put your squad down for a week of light duty?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. I imagine your Hammerhead pilots are not ready to get in their ships for a while."  
  
"Definitely not. If I hadn't needed Hawkes' skill, I would have had him in the transport."  
  
"Still claustrophobic?"  
  
"Yes. So am I, under the right circumstances."  
  
"You managed the old man's regeneration tanks."  
  
"With a lot of help."  
  
"The young man, Wang."  
  
"Yes. Have you seen him?"  
  
Griffon nodded. "He was shuffling around the compound before I came out here. He gave me several message packages."  
  
"The others will be glad to see them."  
  
From a pocket, Griffon took a small package. "He said this one was for you." He set four more down on the table. "These are for the others. I gave Silver hers." Griffon rose. "See you later, colonel."  
  
"Griffon..."  
  
"If you're up for another round, let me know, hm?" Griffon flashed a satisfied grin at McQueen, then left.  
  
McQueen felt his cheeks redden and was glad the mess was mostly empty. He slipped the message from Wang into a breast pocket and left the others on the table, staring at them. His thoughts returned to the previous night's events.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
McQueen started and glanced up to find the 58th at his table. "Sorry. I was thinking. Have you eaten?"  
  
"No, sir." Vansen shifted position slightly. "Um, we were wondering..."  
  
"Join me, please."  
  
The relieved grins told him that was what they had been hoping for. Vansen and West sat down with their filled plates while the others went to the buffet.  
  
"Sir, what's on the agenda today? I didn't see us listed on the schedule."  
  
"We're on light duty for the next week."  
  
"So basically only if the Chigs attack, do we go out." West grinned. "I think I can handle that."  
  
"Well, not quite. You're actually down as third tier. So unless it's a major attack, you won't be flying. The downtime is necessary after this mission. It was actually the commodore's idea and I endorsed it. West, did you get checked out by the doctors?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Spent an entire hour being inspected and then told to get out, there was nothing more they could do for me. I just have to heal up." West shrugged. "I could have saved myself the aggravation. I already knew that."  
  
Finch sat down beside West. "So what are those?" She gestured toward the packets.  
  
"Messages from Wang."  
  
"Really?" Hawkes reached down and picked the packets up, balancing his tray one handed.  
  
"Give those to me," Phousse snapped, "and sit down before you spill your food all over the colonel. I'm sure he doesn't want to wear SOS on his uniform." She snatched the packets out of Hawkes' hand.SOS?  
  
McQueen bit back a grin at the instant chagrin on Hawkes' face. "Sorry, sir." He sat down. "Come on, Phousse. I want to see what Wang wrote me."  
  
Her tray already set down, Phousse scanned the packets and handed them out. "West, Vansen, Hawkes, and mine."  
  
"Cool. Can't wait to get to a reader. Hope he's doing ok."  
  
"Griffon mentioned that Wang was shuffling around."  
  
"What? He's seen Wang?" West stared at McQueen.  
  
"He's related to Silver."  
  
"So he was at the medical center and saw Wang. Wonder why?" Vansen ate absently.  
  
"Probably to give Silver an update on his condition." Phousse speared a piece of mystery meat. "He is still listed as a member of the 58th, isn't he, sir?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So, Griffon saw Wang to report his progress to Silver and the colonel." Phousse shrugged and ate the bite of meat.  
  
"Did he say anything more about Wang, sir?" asked Hawkes.  
  
"No. Just that Wang gave him the message packets to deliver."  
  
"Is Silver up to visitors, sir?"  
  
"One at a time. She lied about the extent of her injuries. They were much more extensive than she admitted to. If she had been a normal human, she would have died."  
  
"Figured as much when she had so much trouble keeping control." Russell ran a hand through his hair. "She's normally very controlled under those kinds of circumstances."  
  
"Yeah, she gets so wound up in her control, it's hard to get her to let up for a while." Finch gave McQueen a pointed look, which he returned blandly. "I'm sure Griffon warned you about that, sir."  
  
"He mentioned something about it." McQueen leaned back in his chair, thinking that he would have to figure out how to keep the balance between what the squad needed, and didn't, need to know. And having the three know a great deal more about vampires and Silver than he did was going to make that tricky.  
  
"Sir, how did your meeting with Griffon go last night?" Vansen asked, not looking up.  
  
"It was," McQueen paused, searching for a good word and coming up with, "enlightening."  
  
Vansen looked like she was going to press, but backed off.  
  
"Sir, are you going to go see Silver this morning?" Phousse dredged her next piece of meat in thick gravy.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Tell her that we're sorry and that we would like to come visit."  
  
"Why don't you tell her yourselves, individually, this afternoon." McQueen pushed his chair back. "I suggest that you take it easy today and tomorrow. After that, start using the gym and we'll resume our regular training schedule the next day. Including simulators."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
McQueen dropped his plates off and headed for the hospital section. He spoke briefly with the nurse on duty and received permission to visit Silver.  
  
Flat on her back, Silver had a lost look to her as if the strength had been leached out of her body. Her eyes were closed and pain etched in her face.  
  
"Silver? Lysa?" he asked quietly, ready to leave if she wanted to be alone.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me about Adam?"  
  
No hint of accusation, merely an inquiry, but he knew better. "I didn't think you needed to know until we returned. I was going to tell you yesterday, but I couldn't." McQueen slipped her dog tags and the cross over his head, holding them in his hand. "I was ashamed of myself... and guilty. If I had been a couple of minutes earlier, I might have talked him out of it. If I had moved just a second sooner, maybe I could have deflected the shot. If I hadn't treated you like dirt, you wouldn't have left and we wouldn't be here like this." He reached out and gently took her good hand. "I kept them for you. I wanted to be the one to give them back to you." He placed the dog tags and the cross in her hand, closing her fingers over them. "To atone for my beastly behavior. As Glen pointed out to me, I used you. I used the lifeline you gave me and then I tossed you aside once I had my future back. I'm sorry, Lysa. I'm sorrier than you'll ever know." He left only his fingers on her closed hand, ready for rejection.  
  
"You should have told me yourself, McQueen." Silver placed her tags and the cross on the stand by the bed. Then she took his hand in hers, twining her fingers with his. "Stubborn tank."  
  
McQueen risked a glance at her face and saw a slight smile. "So people have told me, repeatedly, over the years."  
  
"They were right."  
  
"Silver, I'm sorry. I wanted to be the one to tell you." Her fingers tightened on his and McQueen sighed. "I know he meant a lot to you. I never really had the chance to get to know him. It was a good service. Nearly all the medical personnel who could be there were. Glen conducted it himself. And Vansen even shed a few tears."  
  
"Made an impact on her, hm? He had a way of getting under your skin, quietly."  
  
McQueen watched as she opened her eyes. Pain, personal and physical, reflected in her eyes. "Do you need some medication?"  
  
"No." She swallowed hard, tears forming in her eyes. "Tell me, did you enjoy Griffon's instruction last night?"  
  
McQueen felt his cheeks reddening again. "Yes." He hoped she would accept it and not inquire further.  
  
Her eyes met his and she nodded slightly. "Told you he's a good teacher." She released his fingers and reached up to his reddened cheek.  
  
Pressing his cheek into her hand, McQueen hoped she would accept his attentions.  
  
"Stop standing there like a fool and kiss me, McQueen."  
  
He did so.  
  
She broke the kiss off, pushing him away, studying him with narrowed eyes. "Did Griffon bite you?"  
  
"On the shoulder. He didn't mean to."  
  
"God damn it! The bastard. Then he gave you some blood."  
  
"Yes." McQueen wondered what was wrong.  
  
"Find the bastard and tell him to get his ass down here now. Use my exact words. Then get to your quarters. You're in no shape to be out."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Bastard's bonded you to him."  
  
"And what does that mean?"  
  
"Think about last night."  
  
In only seconds, McQueen felt the heat from last night and wanted nothing more than to have Griffon's hands on him and that hard body fucking him again. He stared, shaking, at Silver, shocked.  
  
Silver grabbed his hand and pulled him down for another kiss. The desire faded enough that he felt barely in control. "Go tell him and then get to your quarters. I'll be sending him there to break the bond."  
  
"It can be broken?"  
  
"Oh, yes. And I'm going to make damn sure he does." Silver caressed his cheek. "I'm not angry with you. Now go, so you can get to your quarters before the urges overpower you."  
  
McQueen nodded and strode out of Sickbay, angry and feeling betrayed. He went first to Griffon's quarters in the Visitor section.  
  
A young woman answered the door. "Yes?"  
  
"I'm looking for Griffon."  
  
"He went to the gym."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Griffon was working out on the punching bag. McQueen grabbed Griffon's arm and felt the anger drain away to be replaced by intense desire. "Damn it, Griffon. What have you done to me?"  
  
Turning around, Griffon saw McQueen swaying, fighting hard for control. "What do you mean?"  
  
"She says you're to get your ass down to her, bastard." McQueen turned away, intent on reaching his quarters before he fell on his knees and started begging Griffon to fuck him right there.  
  
Griffon kept himself from going after McQueen with a supreme effort. He went straight to Silver and found her in a rage. She sat up in her bed as he entered and he locked the door, knowing they couldn't be interrupted.  
  
"Silver, I'm sorry. I didn't think it would happen. I bit his shoulder, that's all."  
  
"Then you licked it and gave him blood."  
  
"Yes." Griffon stared at the floor.  
  
"You allowed your desire for him to overcome your control. He's mine."  
  
"Yes, Silver." Contrite, Griffon leaned over the bed, his throat bared to her.  
  
She twisted his head to the side and bit him savagely, drinking heavily. Releasing her hold on Griffon's throat, Silver twined her fingers in his hair, pulling his head down onto her thighs. "You know what you need to do."  
  
"Yes, Silver."  
  
Griffon slid the blankets down to her knees and burrowed his head down between her thighs. He put his mouth and fingers to work arousing her, working her scent into his skin. As he brought her to an orgasm, Griffon shrugged out of his flight suit and got on the bed. He slid into her, rocking back and forth enough to coat himself thoroughly before getting down and dressing again.  
  
"Griffon."  
  
The still furious growl brought Griffon back to the bed and he bent his head submissively.  
  
"Do it right, damn you, or I'll get out of this bed and teach you not to poach. This isn't over until I get to punish you."  
  
"Yes, Silver."  
  
"Now go fix the situation."  
  
"Yes, Silver."  
  
Griffon headed for McQueen's quarters, avoiding as many people as he could on the way.  
  
****  
  
McQueen sat on his bed, fighting for control. But every time he started to suppress what he was feeling, thoughts of Griffon intruded and he wanted to run out the door and find the vampire so he could beg to be fucked.  
  
A hand rapped on the hatch. "McQueen."  
  
McQueen opened the hatch, barely able to keep his hands off the vampire. Dogging and locking the hatch, McQueen lost all control, flinging himself on Griffon, needing to get inside Griffon's flight suit, to be taken by Griffon.  
  
When Griffon pushed him away, McQueen could barely stand up with the wall's support. His whole body trembled and ached to be touched and taken by the man before him.  
  
"Get undressed," Griffon ordered, his voice tense, as he stripped off his flight suit and kicked his boots toward the bathroom.  
  
In a frenzy, McQueen obeyed, hoping that Griffon would allow him close.  
  
"McQueen, I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to happen. I will set it right. Come here." Griffon held open his arms and staggered when McQueen launched himself into his chest. As hot kisses were rained down upon his throat and neck, Griffon sighed. "God, I wish you were mine. But neither of us would ever get any work done."  
  
"Stop talking and fuck me, damn you. It's all I have been able to think about since I saw Silver." McQueen slid down Griffon and growled in frustration when Griffon grabbed his head, keeping him from sucking the hard cock.  
  
"Not yet. Breathe in. Breathe in the scents. Focus on the one that isn't mine. You already know it."  
  
Obeying, McQueen recognized the second scent. "Silver." A trickle of clarity ran through him. "You did something to me last night. She said you bonded with me."  
  
"It was unintentional. I never meant for it to happen." Griffon stroked McQueen's head lightly, then said, "Go ahead. We have to get this out of the way before I can break the bond. Just try to remember her scent. If you need a reminder, let me know."  
  
"Right, like I have a choice in this." McQueen found his hands were rubbing up and down the hard thighs. "Damn it, I need you to take me and it's driving me mad."  
  
"Get on the bed. Hands and knees. Once I've satisfied our initial lust, I'll work on breaking the bond." Griffon could barely release his light hold on McQueen, keeping his hand on the bare back as McQueen moved to the bed. "We need a lubricant, McQueen."  
  
"Massage oil in the bathroom," groaned McQueen.  
  
Griffon used the oil and returned to where McQueen waited, carrying a towel over his shoulder. He took a moment to admire the view, running his hands lightly over the revealed flesh. The towel was set down on the bed under McQueen.  
  
Sliding his finger in, Griffon felt the way McQueen's muscles sucked him in and moaned at the thought of again fucking McQueen's extremely hot ass. When he felt McQueen was stretched sufficiently for him, Griffon started to ease himself in.  
  
It was too slow for McQueen and he slammed himself backwards onto Griffon, impaling himself fully in one thrust. "Now fuck me! Stop dicking around."  
  
Before starting, Griffon put his fingers under McQueen's nose. "Breathe in."  
  
Silver's scent invaded McQueen's nostrils and he dropped his head. "God, I need her."  
  
"I know."  
  
"And I need this. So get started, dammit."  
  
Griffon took McQueen hard and fast, driving them both over the edge in only minutes.  
  
"Again." McQueen twisted around on one arm, reached back and pulled Griffon down for a hard demanding kiss. "More Silver. Yes. Now, fuck me again."  
  
It took three more times before McQueen could lie down and look at Griffon without demanding to be fucked. "Ok, how do we break this bond?"  
  
"You get to take me this time while breathing in Silver's scent and thinking about her. I know it sounds simplistic, but it will work."  
  
McQueen jerked the towel out of the way and grabbed Griffon, pulling him down onto the bed, hard. He moved over the other man, pinning him to the bed on his back. "About damn time." He gave Griffon a hard kiss, breathing in Silver's scent deeply. "I'm going to enjoy this." The tenseness in Griffon's body telegraphed the vampire's fear of how much he was going to enjoy it as he pushed both of Griffon's legs up to the man's chest. "Hold them."  
  
To McQueen's surprise, Griffon obeyed, closing his eyes.  
  
"Don't move." McQueen fetched the oil and used it liberally on himself and on the exposed ass. He quickly and thoroughly stretched Griffon before pushing in a bit at a time.  
  
Griffon's lower legs over his shoulders, McQueen used short in and out movements, teasing Griffon's body by never quite fully stroking the vampire's prostate. Soon Griffon writhed on the bed, panting hard, but never losing his grip. Griffon's ability to control his body amazed McQueen. He knew he couldn't have kept holding his legs while under such an assault. Burying himself deeply in Griffon, McQueen leaned his head down and found the hand with Silver's scent. He breathed deeply, focusing on her scent, knowing that this meant that he was also bonded to her in some way, but it wasn't as intrusive as what Griffon had done to him.  
  
Reaching down, McQueen stroked the twitching cock below him and watched as Griffon arched his back, groaning. "It's your turn, Griffon."  
  
"Stop talking."  
  
Grinning, McQueen took serious control. He started a slow, steady rhythm, intent on seeing if he could break down Griffon's control. When he felt the hard thighs trembling against his chest, McQueen stopped and waited, running his hands over the smooth, muscular body.  
  
"Never thought you would be a tease, McQueen," came after several minutes.  
  
"Just wondering how far I can go."  
  
"I can't release my control, McQueen. If I do, I'll finish the damn bond. I want you too much. And Lysa is pissed at me enough. She's going to, as the saying goes, rip me a new one, and if I screw up again, she'll get out of that bed to do it. And she is a very strong willed vampire. So do all three of us a favor and don't try to break my controls."  
  
McQueen could see Silver going after Griffon in her unhealed state, injuring herself further. He nodded. "But I intend to get a little back."  
  
"Fine."  
  
The resignation in Griffon's voice almost made McQueen decide to just finish it, but he figured it for a test on Griffon's part. Keeping a steady pace, McQueen watched as Griffon responded enthusiastically. Twice more McQueen drove Griffon to the edge only to pull back to lower the intensity. The rush of power that McQueen felt, watching Griffon writhe under him, made him want to prolong the situation, but as he breathed in Silver's scent once more, he knew it was time to finish. He started to really take Griffon hard and fast.  
  
Griffon's body arched as he came and the resultant muscle contractions brought McQueen over with him. Slumped forward onto Griffon, McQueen felt slightly dazed, but himself.  
  
"It's broken?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good."  
  
Griffon smiled and ran a hand through McQueen's hair. "What I wouldn't give to have you. But I'll be good." He slid his legs down around McQueen and pulled him forward, kissing McQueen. "There, now, I think you better get some sleep. I have a rather irate Silver to get back to."  
  
"I should-" McQueen rolled onto his side.  
  
"Later, McQueen. Later. Let me calm her down. It's a vampire thing and you'd only get hurt if you were there. As it is, I'll be looking for some of my skin when I leave her room." Griffon lurched to his feet and rubbed his backside, thinking about just how Silver would exact her revenge  
  
"She won't get up?" Anxiety showed in McQueen's eyes.  
  
"No. I'll be a good submissive vampire and take my verbal lashing with quiet dignity." Griffon laughed. "No, it's when she can actually get out of the bed that I have to start looking for cover. She is very pissed at me right now. I wonder how many counties I can get between her and me on this ship. Not enough I fear." Reaching down, Griffon started gathering up his clothes. "McQueen, the best thing you can do right now is get some sleep. This has done more to you than you realize. Believe me. Just grab some more sleep. Go see her after lunch."  
  
"I told the squad to see her this afternoon, one at a time."  
  
"I'll let her know." Griffon swung McQueen's legs up onto the bed. "I'm going to take a shower and get out of here."  
  
By the time Griffon came out of the bathroom, McQueen slept, stretched out like a great cat. The sight took Griffon's breath away and he just stood staring for several long minutes. The beautiful, scarred body relaxed in sleep, demanded to be watched. "Damn, if only I had seen you first, McQueen. Lysa needs you though. I can only hope that you let me give you a tumble some time in the future."  
  
Locking the door behind him, Griffon set out to reassure Silver the damage had been repaired.  
  
McQueen opened his eyes, pondering the vampire's words. He shrugged and let himself slip back into sleep.  
  
****  
  
When McQueen woke, he tested himself and thought about Griffon. His overall response was that he ached, and damn it had felt good. With a satisfied grin, McQueen showered, tossing the soiled towel in the hamper. Reminding himself that he needed to get another blanket out for his bed, McQueen luxuriated in the hot water, washing away the sweat and smell of sex.  
  
He dressed again, glad that his clothes had survived the ordeal intact, if a bit wrinkled from the floor. Before going to lunch, McQueen decided to see the commodore.  
  
McQueen found Ross in his office, working on a report. "Plans for lunch?"  
  
"It's close enough." Tossing the report down, Ross ran a hand over his face. "I hate inventories."  
  
As Ross rose, McQueen said, "If you're short two folding chairs, they're with the 58th."  
  
"If only it were that simple. It's Ammunition. How do you lose five torpedoes?" Ross glanced at his secretary, Lt. Martins. "I'm going to lunch. See you in an hour."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
In companionable silence, the two men strolled to the Officer's Mess and got their food. Several minutes after sitting down, Ross said, "I haven't seen a mission report, Ty."  
  
McQueen hesitated slightly before saying, "I'm still trying to figure out how to report it. Glen, you wouldn't believe the things that happened." McQueen stared at his plate.  
  
"Worse than trying to explain Lt. Damphousse's psychic experience?"  
  
"Much worse." McQueen toyed with his fork, debating how much to tell his friend. Deciding that he could only tell the entire truth, he looked up at Ross. "It's going to take a lot longer than an hour and a lot more privacy, Glen."  
  
"Will it explain the presence of one Black Force colonel?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And why Colonel Silver is healing at three times the rate of most people?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And why it was Capt. Vansen who brought me the data recorder and not you?"  
  
McQueen sighed. "Yes."  
  
"After we eat, I'll tell Lt. Martins to cancel my afternoon schedule. We can talk in my quarters."  
  
"Glen, I'll need you to listen before you jump to conclusions."  
  
"So what else is new?" Ross grinned, remembering past escapades over their long history.  
  
McQueen smiled briefly. "Thanks, Glen." He started eating.  
  
****  
  
In Ross' quarters, McQueen stood by the view port, staring out. He almost asked for a scotch to fortify himself, but decided that he needed to keep his wits sharp. This would not be easy.  
  
"How relaxed should I get, Ty?"  
  
"As comfortable as possible, Glen." McQueen raked his fingers through his hair. "This isn't going to be easy for me to do, so if you could keep the questions to a minimum until I've at least gone through it once, it would help a lot."  
  
"One of those kind." Ross settled into his favorite chair, unbuttoned his shirt to a comfortable level and picked up his guitar, Rosalyn, letting his fingers strum absently. "Whenever you're ready, Ty. I'm listening."  
  
McQueen took it as a good sign from past hard discussions and despite appearances, Ross would be paying attention and would have a lot of questions, mostly at the end of the first telling.  
  
The one question McQueen expected as an interruption came. "She's a what?"  
  
"Vampire. Not quite what the classic tales describe, but she does drinks blood, or rather, life force. And she needs a lot of sex to go with it."  
  
"Blood and sex." Ross strummed for a moment, not looking at McQueen. "All right. What else?"  
  
To McQueen's amazement, Ross managed to not ask any more questions. He sank down into the chair he usually sat in during their late night visits and waited.  
  
"As I see it, the two biggest problems for your report are how to explain Silver's getting around with such serious injuries and how you managed to heal so quickly. I think that sums it up nicely."  
  
McQueen nodded. "I have no idea how to explain Silver's being able to keep going for as long as she did, especially with those injuries. I know people have been able to manage for several days, but a month?"  
  
"Let's check with the doctors and see what their opinion of her injuries are. If we're lucky, they'll decide the injuries were not as old as that. As for you... Ty, we'll have to say it appears to be a temporary side effect of the treatments you underwent."  
  
"That's the only thing I could come up with." McQueen dropped his head into his hands. "I don't want to become a guinea pig. Not so late in my life."  
  
"I don't blame you." Ross set the guitar down on its stand. He waited a moment before asking, "So, Ty, what was it like to make love to a vampire?"  
  
"Quite normal until she sinks those teeth into me. Then my whole body turns into fire. It becomes so intense, I have trouble breathing. I'm both looking forward to and extremely anxious about the first time we make love with her still drinking from me." McQueen did not look up at his oldest friend.  
  
"Ty, are you ashamed of what has happened?"  
  
Breathing deeply for a minute, McQueen answered finally. "Yes and no. A part of me is ashamed. Ashamed of how I treated her. Ashamed of enjoying the physical side of things, when so much needed to be done. Ashamed that I want more, a lot more."  
  
"But it is not a one way street, Ty. She obviously wants you, enough to nearly kill herself on the trip back to keep you alive. She is probably ashamed of losing control during that time, even though she kept from killing you. The two of you need to talk this out. Soon."  
  
"Yes, sir." Still staring at his hands, McQueen said, "I would like to get a medic assigned to the 58th, Glen. It would make things easier, especially if Silver stays."  
  
"Don't you even know that?"  
  
"For the time being. That's all she's agreed to."  
  
"How do you plan on getting her to stay?"  
  
McQueen sighed and gave his friend an anguished look. "I don't know. All I do know is that I need her. In some crazy way, I really need her. I can survive without her, but I want her, I need her close, the closer the better. Letting her go on missions won't be the hard part. It'll be when she comes back, when all I want to do is sweep her into my arms, kiss her and make love to her."  
  
"Have you told her any of this?"  
  
"Not yet. Things got a bit confusing there with Griffon and that damn bonding he did. I plan on seeing her this afternoon. I'm hoping I'll have the time to talk to her. The squad is coming by as well and some of them really need to speak to her, to get the situation between her and them straightened out. If they can't get the situation back on some sort of track, it won't matter if I get to talk to her or not. She won't stay, not if the squad can't accept her. No matter how much I need her, I won't make her suffer their disaffection. I'll let her go before I force her to stay where she's not comfortable." McQueen dropped his gaze to the floor again.  
  
Ross smiled slightly, realizing that his friend was finally learning about loving another person as an equal. And that he was a father to those unruly young Marines. "Ty, I'm certain that if you want her to, Silver will find a way to stay here on the Saratoga. I'd be willing to make her a bridge officer. She's got the same good instincts that you do."  
  
"She should."  
  
"Ty, whatever happens between Silver and the squad, don't let this woman get away from you. Those kids of yours may end up being unhappy about you having a relationship with Silver, but they have no right to dictate to you who you spend time with or how."  
  
A sharp laugh, "Glen, we're on a Navy vessel. The how would be all over this ship in no time flat if they did not approve. And Silver will come in for a lot of flack over having a tank for a lover."  
  
"She can handle the challenge."  
  
McQueen almost did not hear the breath soft words that followed. "And I would have." He brought his head up and stared at Ross, remembering words from the night of his spanking. "Glen-"  
  
"Don't ask." Ross could not meet his friend's eyes.  
  
"How long have you wanted me?"  
  
"I told you not to ask."  
  
"Please, tell me. I need to know."  
  
"Do you remember the first time we met, Ty?"  
  
"Yes, The AI POW camp. You led the rescue team."  
  
Ross snorted softly. "Trust you to reduce it to bare minimum, Ty." He reached over and took Rosalyn by the neck and started strumming again, needing to ground himself, to distance himself slightly from the memories. "We had been trying to figure out a way to get inside. Then we heard gunfire. I led the attack, hoping the distraction from inside would be enough. I nearly shot you when you came staggering around that corner, carrying a pistol. The only reason I didn't was the obvious blood coming from those damned injuries the AIs had inflicted on you."  
  
"I was positive I was dead when I saw you," admitted McQueen. "I couldn't have pulled the trigger again to save my life. Besides," he grinned, "I was out of bullets."  
  
"Now he tells me." Ross grinned back briefly. "Then you sank to your knees, exhausted, badly injured, and that damned Capt. Burton came over, thanking me for rescuing him. The contrast between the two of you told me everything I needed to know. He had talked or worked out some sort of deal with the AIs, earning himself a relatively easy time. He hadn't tried to escape, not seriously. And he had the effrontery to ignore you, even though you were there at his feet. It angered me because I could see your stay just as clearly. I didn't know you were an IV, but I knew you had fought, tried to escape, been caught again, and still fought. From the anguished look in your eyes, I knew the AIs had broken you and, in an effort to regain your self-respect, you had made another break for freedom, this time succeeding."  
  
"All that from less than two mikes of observation?" McQueen asked quietly.  
  
Ross nodded once. "And then the bastard pissed me off when he looked down at you and said, Tank, get your ass over to the barracks and start evacuating my people.' And you said, Yes, sir,' and started to get up."  
  
Lost in the memory, McQueen said, "You shoved me back down, keeping your hand on my shoulder so I couldn't obey. And you said, I need this tank. I have a job only he can do.' Burton laughed and said, 'Hope he pleases you as well as he did us.'" McQueen focused on Ross' hands, remembering the fingers tightening on his injured shoulder, the anger pouring off the Navy Seal. "Then you released my shoulder, saying, 'I'm sure he'll please me just fine.'"  
  
Ross suppressed a shudder of distaste. "The only reason I let the bastard walk away was I knew it would only make things worse for you. When I looked back down at you, Ty, you were unzipping your flight suit, preparing yourself for yet another invasion of your body. Those beautiful sapphire eyes glanced up at me and, for a split second, I wanted to do just that. I wanted to know what you felt like, how you kissed, how it would feel taking you. But in that same instant, I knew that no one had ever asked you if you wanted this. That they had always taken from you and that you had come to accept it. I could see the pain in your eyes and such weary resignation. I realized that it would make me no better than that bastard Burton and the AIs. I decided then and there that I was going to be something more to you than another taker. I was going to become your friend whether you wanted me to or not. I wanted to get to know the man behind the bruised face. If anything were to happen later, it would be because we both wanted it to happen, not just me." Ross' voice dropped and he did not look up at McQueen.  
  
"You knelt, stopped me from undressing and said softly, 'What's your name, soldier?' I answered, 'McQueen. Captain. U.S. Marines.' Then you ran your fingers lightly over my cheek and started looking over my injuries, saying 'Let's get you to the medic.' When I asked about the job you wanted done, you chuckled, 'That's the job I want you to do, McQueen. Come on, let's go.' It was the first time anyone had bothered to care about me before anything or anyone else. I didn't know what you wanted from me, but I hurt too much to really care about it then. I just figured I would handle it whenever you demanded payment. Only you never did. It took me a long time to figure out all you wanted was to be my friend."  
  
Ross shook his head. "It took me months to get past the mistrust you had of everyone. Just like trying to befriend a feral dog almost. And when I found out where you had spent your early life, I knew that my decision to become your friend was the right one. I spoke to a couple of friends of mine and arranged to have you tested for aptitude. They decided that you were being wasted where you were, as well as being abused, and arranged for your transfer. I followed your career and tried to see you as often as I could, wrangling days off so that I could visit you. I was so proud of you when the Angry Angels accepted you. I knew you had what it took to be the best." Ross stopped strumming and looked at his friend. "I never stopped wanting you, but our friendship had come to mean so much more to me than the physical possibility. I never intended to let you know. I wanted you to know that an enduring friendship was possible and did not have to be physical."  
  
"Glen, you've always been my friend. I know I'm not the easiest person to be around or to understand. And I can be dense and stubborn. But I have always valued our friendship, once I understood that it was what you wanted from me. I'm not always sure how to be a friend and sometimes I need a reminder of what friendship is about. Then I just look back over the years and I know what a friend is. You are my friend and will always be my friend. Thank you, Glen, for daring to make friends with me all those years ago."  
  
Rising, McQueen stood before Ross. He gently took Rosalyn out of the still hands and set her on the waiting stand. "Glen, you gave me back my life and soul and all you asked was to be my friend. I have trusted you to guard my back and you have trusted me to do the same. I trusted you a hundred different times and that trust was never misplaced. I trusted you not to abuse me when you punished me that night. You didn't disappoint me. And I intend to go on trusting you, because you are my friend, Glen. Will you trust me in return?"  
  
"Always, Ty."  
  
"Then trust me for the next couple of hours. Let me teach you what it is like to make love to a man, a man who happens to be a tank that wants a vampire for a lover." McQueen tilted Ross' head up and gave his friend a real smile. "Trust me."  
  
"That was never the problem."  
  
"We'll deal with whatever happens, Glen, together, as friends should. Just think of it as repayment of a very old debt. One that should have been paid a long time ago."  
  
"Ty. I don't-"  
  
"Glen, no matter what, it doesn't change the way I feel about you. Glen Ross, you are my friend. Nothing in this universe will change that. Now, trust me." McQueen held out his hand.  
  
Slowly Ross placed his hand in the waiting one, giving a wan smile.  
  
****  
  
Nurse Temple looked up from her computer terminal, sensing several people standing by her desk. She smiled at the sight of the entire 58th squadron waiting. "Must be visiting hours again. No more than two at a time, please. The colonel tires easily right now. Understand?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am," the squad chorused.  
  
Temple nodded. "The room to her right is empty, so the rest of you can wait in there. If I come in and find more than two of you with the colonel, I will immediately revoke and suspend indefinitely your visiting privileges. Go on."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
In the empty room, the squadron glanced at one another.  
  
"Who goes first?" asked Phousse.  
  
"Finch and St. John," Vansen said firmly. "Then Russell."  
  
Phousse looked at Vansen. "Then you, Shane. You need to straighten things out between the two of you before the rest of us talk to her."  
  
Vansen hesitated.  
  
"She's right, Shane." West touched her arm. "You need to talk to her first."  
  
"All right."  
  
Finch and St. John left.  
  
"I want to go after Shane," stated West.  
  
"Can I come with you?" asked Phousse.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Guess that means I go alone and last." Hawkes stared at the floor.  
  
"Hawkes, if you want, I'll come in with you," volunteered Russell.  
  
"No, man. You need to see her by yourself."  
  
"Doesn't mean I can't join you too."  
  
"It's ok, Russell. I kinda want to talk to her alone."  
  
Ten minutes later, Finch opened the swinging door. "Next."  
  
Russell alerted Vansen after fifteen minutes. "Ok, Shane. She seems pretty mellow right now. Oh, be warned everyone. She knows about Adam."  
  
Vansen sighed and rose. "Who told her?"  
  
"One of the staff."  
  
"Should have been the colonel."  
  
"Yeah, well, it wasn't."  
  
Outside Silver's room, Vansen hesitated a moment before pushing her way through the swinging door. "Colonel."  
  
"Captain."  
  
To Vansen's eyes, Silver still looked awful. Dark circles gave her gray eyes a transparent look and the cast immobilizing the right shoulder lent her a misshapen air. A burn trailed up from under the hospital gown across the left side of her throat to the back of the jaw. Under the skimpy gown, Vansen knew more burns were hidden from sight.  
  
"Do I look as bad as I feel?"  
  
"Possibly." Vansen ventured to the foot of the bed. "Are you in a lot of pain?"  
  
"I have an advantage over IVs. I can take the most powerful painkillers our science has devised. There's no pain unless I move more than a couple of inches."  
  
"Colonel... I want to... Silver, I would like to..."  
  
"Sit down, Vansen. Gather your thoughts and forget the rank."  
  
Vansen sat down, staring at her hands. "Silver, I would like to apologize for my actions toward you. I was jealous and overly distrustful. You did everything you promised, including leaving when we made it obvious that you weren't wanted. We, no I, treated you unspeakably badly and you did nothing to deserve such treatment from me. I'm sorry."  
  
"Shane, come here." Silver patted the bed.  
  
Slowly, Shane obeyed.  
  
"Why were you jealous?"  
  
"I didn't want you to take him away from us."  
  
Gently laying her hand on Shane's knee, Silver said, "I don't plan on taking him away from you, Shane, any of you."  
  
"I know that now." Taking a deep breath, Shane forced herself to say calmly, "I would like to start over, Silver."  
  
"I think we can do that." Silver held her good hand out over Shane's leg. "Hello, I'm Lt. Col. Silver, the new co-CO for the 5-8." She grinned.  
  
Taking the offered hand, Shave said, "I'm Capt. Shane Vansen, honcho of the 5-8."  
  
"Nice to meet you."  
  
"Silver..." Shane stared down at their hands and slowly let go. "I know you're a vampire."  
  
"So?"  
  
"I'm not sure how to react to that."  
  
"At least that's different and a lot more positive than what I usually get. Most people laugh nervously and then run for their lives. After that, they usually avoid me at all costs."  
  
"Do you tell people often?"  
  
"No. As rarely as possible and only when necessary."  
  
"But you told members of the 110th."  
  
"Yes. All told, twenty-five out of a hundred knew exactly what I am. The others may have guessed, but I didn't tell them. And outside Major Dupre, they were all IVs."  
  
"Dupre? The major who died when we found Paul and Adam?"  
  
"Yes. I had to tell him when we were stranded in the desert on Sigyn. Just the two of us survived the crash. We had a hundred klick trek to get back to friendly territory. There was enough water for one normal person. In order to get Dupre to take the water, I had to tell him what I am. Traveling at night, I went on four feet, scouting. I was relieved when we reached scrub desert. Our odds of survival went up since I could hunt without using ammo."  
  
"Did you hunt on Ixion?"  
  
"Yes. I kept my people supplied as best I could. I still wish I could have been on Deimos. I think I could have kept more alive if I had been there."  
  
Shane shook her head. "A trading of lives. And we had to take Ixion. You needed to be there. Not on Deimos. You made a difference on Ixion."  
  
Silver's smile was bleak. "I know why we went to Deimos and why we had to abandon you there to go to Ixion. But it didn't help the hurt. The only thing I could do was fight on Ixion and pray to make it back to pickup my kids."  
  
"Is it something that happens to people in command? This thinking of those under them as their kids?"  
  
This time Silver smiled genuinely. "Only to some of us. Those of us who allow our hearts to become engaged."  
  
"Are we your kids?" Shane raised her eyes to Silver's face.  
  
"I would like you to be. I already know, like and respect you for yourselves, not just because you're his kids." Silver met Shane's gaze steadily.  
  
Shane nodded. "On that planet, McQueen told us some things. One thing he said was that he cared for us, that he felt like a father. West said he made a good father. Then Hawkes asked if that made you our mother. McQueen looked at me and I told him that if you were willing to give it a go, I would accept you as such. I guess what I'm trying to say is-"  
  
"Shane, you don't have to say anymore. I understand." Silver patted Shane's knee. "Family does not always mean blood relations, as you know. I would be honored to have the 5-8 as family. And you remind me, Shane, a lot of my daughter, Cassie."  
  
"May I ask you a personal question?"  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"Aren't you married to Cassie's father?"  
  
"No. When my parents discovered I was in the Corps, they demanded, rightly enough, that I leave a child behind, just in case. Robert was a childhood friend and we liked one another. So we got together and it took six months before I was pregnant. At four months, complications set in and my body was trying to terminate the pregnancy. My mother, who specializes in OB, came to the rescue. She used a variation of IV technology, removing the placenta and the baby from my body and placing them in a tank to finish gestation. My heartbeat and voice were recorded to be played continuously. I returned to my training once I recovered from the surgery. But I was there when Cassie was born, a beautiful, healthy baby. Despite the fact that she was raised with a wet nurse, I love Cassie dearly, but I am a Marine first, then a mother, and both she and her father understand this. So you'll just have to be my kids."  
  
"We would be honored to be your kids." Shane sighed. "I should let the next group in."  
  
"Rest up, Shane. I have the feeling things will be getting busy in the near future."  
  
"I will. You too."  
  
Silver nodded and Shane left the room.  
  
Holding open the door, Vansen returned to where the others were waiting. "Ok. I'm done." As West and Phousse walked out, she asked, "Hawkes, do you want me to stay?"  
  
Shaking his head, Hawkes gave her a quick smile. "I'm all right. Don't worry about me. I'll meet you for dinner, ok?"  
  
"All right."  
  
****  
  
Standing at the foot of Silver's bed, West and Phousse tried to hide their dismay at how bad she looked.  
  
"I've looked and felt better." Silver gave them a weak smile. "So what brings you to this room of dismal cheer?"  
  
"Silver, we would like to apolo-" started Phousse.  
  
"Don't apologize. I think Shane did it enough for the rest of you. So is there anything else?"  
  
"I really like the scarf, Silver. Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome, Phousse. It was a gift from a good friend a long time ago. He won't mind my passing it on." Silver shifted and winced. "Damn shoulder."  
  
"Colonel, you missed Christmas." West glanced at Phousse, then looked back at Silver. "When you're released, we'd like to give you a small Christmas party."  
  
"I appreciate the gesture, but-"  
  
"Colonel, let us give to you this time." Phousse stepped up beside Silver. "You already gave us the two greatest presents possible. Paul and McQueen. Let us show our appreciation, please."  
  
"And the gifts that you left for us, well, we sort of decided to consider them Christmas presents when we agreed to come after you." West moved up and rested his hand lightly on Silver's bad arm. "So, in a sense, you've already given us our gifts."  
  
"Looks like I'm outmaneuvered."  
  
Phousse smiled. "We were hoping to. Do you mind if we invite the commodore?"  
  
"Of course not."  
  
"Colonel, you're looking a bit tired and Nurse Temple has threatened to suspend our visiting rights if we overtire you. Hawkes is waiting to see you, so we'll go and let him come see you." West nodded at Silver. "We'll come again tomorrow. That way the colonel can stay for the evening visiting hours."  
  
Phousse smiled at him. "Haven't seen the colonel since breakfast when we got the letters from Paul."  
  
"Griffon brought my letter early this morning. I haven't watched it yet." Silver sighed. "I figure I can wait a bit. He only knew me for a short time."  
  
"Paul is different from others. Hell, for months, he was carrying on a love affair over the Space Net. Never could understand that." West shook his head. "But he is smart and observant. You might be surprised at what he has to say."  
  
"All right. I'll watch it later tonight."  
  
"Let's go." Phousse headed for the door.  
  
As West joined her, Silver heard Phousse say quietly, "Now all we have to do is talk the others into this idea."  
  
Silver smiled with a soft chuckle. She closed her eyes and, after a moment, sensed another person enter quietly, keeping the door from swinging shut swiftly. "It's all right, Hawkes. I'm just resting my eyes. Come sit down, please."  
  
Whisper soft steps and then he was sitting on her good side. "Colonel, I need to talk to you."  
  
"What about?"  
  
"You and the colonel."  
  
"Yes?" Silver opened her eyes and settled her gaze on his face. "Go on."  
  
"You hurt him on the shuttle, didn't you?"  
  
"Unfortunately, yes."  
  
"And you expect him to be interested in you after that?"  
  
"I think I can see what you're after, Hawkes." Silver sighed. "It's a difficult thing to explain. But I'll try. I'm not sure how much I should tell you, but I need you to understand one thing. Whatever I tell you must not be told to anyone else. Is that acceptable?"  
  
"Not even McQueen?"  
  
"I'll tell him myself."  
  
Hawkes met her eyes steadily. "Ok. I'm listening."  
  
"Vampires like myself originated on the far side of this galaxy. So, yes, there are other races out there. On that far planet in the dim past, possibly five million years ago, two creatures for reasons unknown became joined. One resembles the four footed form you saw me in. It is like any other mammalian creature. It eats, sleeps, procreates, and dies. The other was a viral parasite that thrived on the life force of its host and drove its host to seek out other life force. Somehow, again for reasons we never understood, the relationship changed from a parasitic one to a symbiotic one. Do you understand the difference, Hawkes?"  
  
Hawkes frowned, thinking it over. "Parasitic is one organism preying on another without benefit to the one it preys on. Symbiotic is both organisms benefit from the relationship."  
  
"Good enough. The four footed organism provided the body; the viral organism provided the drive to hunt and kill for the life force. The symbiotic relationship changed both creatures, creating a new whole that was more intelligent and getting more so. Over another million years or so, this new creature learned how to use tools and how not to kill in order to get its life force. Without getting into a long lecture about it, vampires evolved into an upright, tool using, space faring race. I won't go into the reasons why, but ten thousand years ago, vampires were forced to flee their home world and wander the galaxy. Almost thirteen hundred years ago, my ancestors crashed on Earth. We changed our shape to conform and disappeared into humanity, keeping our family units together, bringing in humans as needed. The majority of us have never killed another human as a vampire, it is considered the vilest act one of us can do. That is where the legend comes from. The blood sucking killing machine is what an evil vampire becomes. Fortunately, they are rare. Unfortunately, the couple that existed in the past got a lot of press coverage and the legends spread, giving the rest of us a bad name. Sort of like the way people treat you for what the IV platoons did in general."  
  
"I get it."  
  
"Thought you might."  
  
"You still haven't explained why he should want to come back to you."  
  
Silver smiled. "I'm getting there. Now remember a vampire is two organisms in the same body. The viral part craves life force and the physical part gets that life force to feed the viral part. Think of a vampire as a lot like yourself, Hawkes. Certain things are hardwired in."  
  
"Blood and sex. I heard that part as they were talking to McQueen on the transport."  
  
"Right. Vampires are born, just like any other natural creature, and I'm not saying you're not natural. That's another discussion for another time. Vampires learn how not to kill when drinking from others when they reach their adolescence years. We learn how to control the craving the viral part demands and how to feed it so that we gain the most benefit from the partnership."  
  
"What benefits?"  
  
"Hawkes, you know you were bred to try and replace members of the Black Forces, don't you?"  
  
"There were rumors about that. But the rumors said that the tanks that were tested against the Black Forces all failed."  
  
"Do you want to know why?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Because most of the Black Forces are vampires. And just like you, we have better reflexes, sight, hearing, strength, you name it and it's better. Except perhaps in the sex department. And frankly, I prefer tanks as sexual partners. You have better endurance and stamina than normal humans as well as being better built. The reason we are so much better than normal humans is because it is the edge that the viral portion gives us. But there is a price to pay for that edge. When a vampire becomes badly injured, with little to feed on, the viral hunger starts to dominate. It becomes harder and harder for the vampire to control the hunger. The worst the injuries, the harder it is to control the hunger. All the hunger knows is that in order to heal, it needs to feed."  
  
"And that's where you were."  
  
"And still am. Only I've been fed enough that the hunger is just barely controllable again." Silver closed her eyes briefly. "Imagine yourself as being extremely thirsty and you know that every person you see is a possible well to drink from, only you can't do it without permission and none of them are likely to give you that permission. What do you do?"  
  
Hawkes answered slowly, working it out verbally. "You either die from lack of water, take from them forcibly or you ask everyone if you can drink from them. But then, with either of the last two options, they then know what you are and will react in fear because they think you will drink them dry."  
  
"Right. So, I was in even more difficulty than that. Have you ever been so thirsty that when you finally found water, you just drank and drank until you couldn't any more?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Did you try to control your urge to drink?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Do you think you could have?"  
  
"No." Hawkes frowned. "That's where you were? So thirsty, so hungry, that you couldn't stop yourself?"  
  
"Yes. And what would happen to the person I drank from?"  
  
"They would die."  
  
"Right. So I had to try to control the urge to feed, not very successfully at times. But I forced the hunger to stop before it killed him."  
  
"Does he know how close you came to killing him?"  
  
"I'm sure he does. He was conscious while I was feeding and fighting to regain control. I'm not very proud of what happened on the return trip, but I did manage to control the hunger so that I didn't kill anyone. It could have happened and it would have been easy to do. A vampire in the state I was in, let's just say they can easily become a killing machine. Losing that battle drags a vampire down into darkness. I walk in the gray areas enough as it is. I don't need the blackness any closer."  
  
"So, it was the hunger that was hurting him."  
  
"Mostly."  
  
"Mostly?"  
  
"I was also hurt and ticked off at the way he treated me."  
  
"We weren't any better." Hawkes stared at the floor for a moment. "Silver, how did you heal McQueen in the cavern? Why did he heal so quickly? Why didn't he walk off that transport looking like death warmed over?"  
  
"Another benefit of the viral part. When I drink from people on a regular basis, I give blood back. This exchange of blood satisfies the hunger and allows the viral partner to benefit the other person, temporarily. Enforced speed healing is one of the benefits. If McQueen decides to bond with me, then he will drink on a regular basis and all of his senses will receive a boost, making him damn near as sharp as a vampire."  
  
"Bond?"  
  
"It is a link between a vampire and a regular donor. Some vampires like to bond so tightly that they can't separate even for a day, definitely not my style. If McQueen bonds with me, I will be able to, if I want to, separate out his heartbeat from thirty or forty other people in the same room or within a hundred feet, even through a steel bulkhead. I will know if something like Danson happens again. I will know if he is alive or dead, even if he were on Earth and I were here. And he could do the same, if he wanted to. And we could always know where the other one was, at least generally, if desired."  
  
"Have you bonded with McQueen?"  
  
"Yes, the lowest possible bond. All it does is mark him as claimed so that no other vampire will touch him. It is something that only another vampire can sense."  
  
"How many regulars do you need?"  
  
"The more the better." Silver frowned. "I know that was facetious, but it is accurate. On the Ticondaroga, I had twenty-five regulars at one time. Most of the time it was around ten. This allowed me to drink from a different three every day, giving the others the chance to recover before I drank from them again. Here on the Toga-"  
  
"You've been on worse than half rations."  
  
"Yes. Drinking from the others one a day. Even if McQueen bonds to me, that still leaves me short even of half rations. But I have to pick my regulars carefully."  
  
"What is the downside to being a regular?"  
  
"The biggest one is being bonded to a vampire. It depends on how that person feels about the idea. Otherwise, a regular sees only benefits."  
  
Hawkes leaned back in his chair, silent for a long moment. "Am I acceptable as a regular?"  
  
Silver drew a sharp breath. "It is not something to jump into, Hawkes. You better think about it seriously."  
  
"I have been."  
  
"And for a lot longer. This will change the relationship you have with the rest of the squad. Are you prepared for that?"  
  
"I hadn't thought of that."  
  
The door swung open and McQueen strode in. "And this is a discussion that will be held at a later time."  
  
"Hm, been listening long?" Silver gave McQueen a hard look.  
  
"Since making him promise not to tell anyone."  
  
"Basically the entire discussion. Well, at least I don't have to repeat myself."  
  
"Hawkes, is there anything else you'd like to talk to Silver about?"  
  
Nodding, Hawkes rose. "Silver, will you be our mother?"  
  
Despite the absolute seriousness of his tone and look, she couldn't stop a single burst of laughter from escaping. "Hawkes, you are the absolute be- all and end-all. Come here." As he approached with a puzzled look, Silver pulled him down to her and kissed his forehead. "Yes, Cooper Hawkes, I will be your mother if you want me to be."  
  
"What about the others?"  
  
"It is their decision, Hawkes. I can't be something they don't want me to be. Don't worry about it. Now, why don't you go on out? Should be dinner time soon."  
  
"Ok." Almost to the door, Hawkes spun around. "But you already act like McQueen toward the others."  
  
"It has to be their decision, Hawkes."  
  
Hawkes nodded. The door swung shut behind him.  
  
"How do you feel?" Silver watched McQueen approach her bed, seeing he moved easily.  
  
"Fine. Griffon and I broke the bond. But you know that already. How badly did you tear into him, Silver?" McQueen sat to her left on the bed.  
  
"Enough."  
  
"It'll be after you're released that you'll go after him, right?"  
  
"Yes. He knows better." Silver caressed his cheek and smiled when he kissed her palm.  
  
Returning the smile, McQueen leaned over and kissed her.  
  
"And who is this I smell on you?" she asked softly. "Ross?"  
  
"Repayment of a very old debt."  
  
"You don't have to explain anything. I'll never ask you to confine yourself to only one lover. After all, I can't be monogamous, there's no reason for you to be. Just stay away from other vampires."  
  
"And how would I know who they are?"  
  
"Right now, you can't."  
  
"I have a great many questions, but I'll wait until we can talk privately." He kissed Silver lightly and sat in the chair, pulling it up next to the bed and leaning on the bed. "I take it that Hawkes was the last of the squad."  
  
"Yes. Each and every one, except for Hawkes, has apologized to me. But I think the topic of conversation will serve."  
  
"So things are resolved for the moment."  
  
"I guess so. Be warned. West and Phousse want to throw me a Christmas party."  
  
"You did miss out this year. For us, it was a quiet one for a change. No fighting on our front."  
  
"Good."  
  
"But we were missing two members." McQueen paused. "They sent presents to Wang."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"A message."  
  
"Oh, lord. If it went anything like the ones you sent us, it was exceedingly short and terse."  
  
McQueen saw the sparkle in her eyes. "Well, I limited myself to one page. But I filled it."  
  
"At least I know they didn't send him any bunny slippers."  
  
McQueen smiled at the idea. "Have you read his message?"  
  
"Not yet. I thought I would do it later."  
  
"Neither have I." McQueen touched her good hand and felt encouraged that she twined her fingers in his. "Ross will be by after dinner. He was helping me figure out how to write the mission report. We drifted onto the subject of you and I realized something I had missed. And I learned something new about my good friend."  
  
"Nothing bad, I hope?"  
  
"No. Just unexpected." McQueen fell silent for a moment. "Would you like some books?"  
  
"It would be appreciated. I can only sleep for so long."  
  
"Does get rather tedious." McQueen smiled, remembering his own times in Sickbay. "I'll bring some by after dinner."  
  
By the time Nurse Temple arrived to shoo visitors out, McQueen had a mental list of items to bring with him.  
  
"On my way, nurse." McQueen rose. "See you after dinner."  
  
Silver watched him leave, enjoying the sight of him striding out. She caught the admiring look Temple gave McQueen's back. "Quite a sight, hm?"  
  
The nurse met Silver's gaze. "Quite a catch for someone."  
  
"I'm hoping for myself."  
  
"Good luck. He's always had trouble with the women around here. They go after him because they consider him a trophy, another notch in their belts. He isn't a person to them."  
  
"Or they consider him untouchable because of his being a tank. I know the feeling." Silver nodded. "But I want the man, just the way he is."  
  
****  
  
When McQueen returned to Silver's room after having eaten with the squad, he heard voices and paused outside the room.  
  
"Commodore, you've been a good and loyal friend to McQueen. Such friendship is rare."  
  
"It was a chance I took a long time ago. The rewards were well worth the time and effort it took to convince him I was serious about being a friend."  
  
"Yes. He can be extremely stubborn about accepting friendship or help."  
  
"That's him." After a short pause, Ross continued. "Silver, what are your plans for McQueen?"  
  
"There's that friendship rearing its head." Silver chuckled. "Relax, commodore. My intentions are honorable. I know that's usually the man's line. But it's probably appropriate in my case. I can't offer him more than consort, but to my family that's as binding on my part as marriage is to most humans. If I take him as my primary consort, it is my choice and my family will honor it as such and do everything in their power to support him. He receives full benefits as my survivor and my family will make sure he never has to face the world alone. No questions asked. It's just the way we work."  
  
"First, drop the rank. We are talking as friends, I hope."  
  
"I'd like to think so."  
  
"Good. Second, primary consort?"  
  
McQueen could sense her smile in her words. "Yes. Primary consort. Due to what I am, I can't have a marriage like most humans. To maintain a healthy level, which I have not since arriving on the Toga and it isn't your fault or McQueen's, I need at least ten individuals. But as you can guess, finding those individuals is a tricky proposition."  
  
"I can see that. Not many would embrace what you are without some reservations."  
  
"Speaking of which, you seem to be quite comfortable with the idea, Ross."  
  
"Let's just say that I've had my world view changed any number of times in my life. After AIs and Chigs, what's finding out that vampires are real?"  
  
"True. Just wish more felt that way."  
  
"Eventually, but I suspect first will come equal rights for the IVs."  
  
"With any luck. Both McQueen and Hawkes will be forced into the forefront of that bitter battle, I'm afraid, whether they want to be or not."  
  
Ross turned back to the original topic. "Your family will have no problem with accepting McQueen?"  
  
"The ones that matter already have. My parents both admire him from the time he was there. They wrote me saying that he was more than worthy of joining the family. Not that their opinion really mattered to me. The one I had my doubts about was my daughter, Cassie. But she thinks he's a hunk with a brain. The best combination there is." Silver laughed. "And my daughter does not fall easily."  
  
"Like her mother."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
McQueen wondered at the hint of sadness.  
  
"What is it, Silver?"  
  
"Vampires know that every soul has a mate. All our lives we search for that other soul. Few are lucky enough to find their soul mate. Sometimes, it takes lifetimes to find them."  
  
"Lifetimes?"  
  
"I've lived at least five times, all of them on Earth and not all as a vampire. Each time, I've been a warrior. Once, I held my soul mate in my arms and watched her die only seconds later, taken by a Nazi bullet. I tore the soldier apart in my grief and rage. None of the other times did I come close."  
  
Ross took a sharp breath. "Until now."  
  
"Until now."  
  
"And that's why you've been so careful around him."  
  
"As a vampire, I know immediately. So few humans can remember past lives. How do you tell a man who has been told all his life he has no soul that not only does he have one, but that he's lived several lives already?"  
  
"I have no idea."  
  
McQueen leaned against the wall, stunned. He blinked rapidly, realizing the explanation for at least one thing. Why he had trusted Silver within a day of meeting her now made sense. His soul had recognized her, but this life had conditioned him to question and refuse help.  
  
"He should be here soon. I suspect he ate with the squadron."  
  
"It's been good to see him interacting with them so much outside of missions. Silver, I know I'm jumping the gun here, but when you're cleared for light duty, I would like you to be on the bridge during combats, whether McQueen is there or not."  
  
"In what capacity?"  
  
"You and McQueen appear to work well both as a team and separately. I would like that to continue."  
  
McQueen pushed into the room, his sack of goodies under his arm. "Sorry, I'm late. Took longer to round everything up than I thought. Would like what to continue, Glen?"  
  
"The two of you working on the bridge, either together or separately."  
  
"Sounds good to me." McQueen walked over to the side of the bed.  
  
"It's definitely better than sitting in my quarters going mad." Silver eyed the bag tucked under McQueen's arm suspiciously. "Just what did you bring?"  
  
"Some books, a chess board, a deck of cards, and a computer pad. Plus a couple of other things for later." McQueen set the bag down on the stand and pulled three books out. "I don't know if you've read them already, but I found these tucked away on a back shelf in the library. An author by the name of McCaffrey."  
  
"Yes, yes, yes."  
  
McQueen smiled slightly at the glow in her eyes.  
  
"I read her over and over. Which ones?"  
  
"They all have dragon in the title. I figured that was a good sign."  
  
"Definitely. A great series."  
  
"Dragon Flight, Dragon Quest, the White Dragon."  
  
"Perfect." Silver gazed at the books hungrily and with delight. She would enjoy delving back into that world. She glanced up at McQueen. "Do I need to dare you?"  
  
"No. I'll read them when you've finished. I'm learning to trust your book sense."  
  
"Good."  
  
"But I expect you to read a few of mine some time."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Dragons?" Ross shook his head slightly. "When did you start reading fantasy stuff, Ty?"  
  
With a shrug, McQueen said, "She started me on the Hobbit. Then came Lord of the Rings. I just finished that one a month ago, for the second time. This time I read it, not listened."  
  
"Without all the dramatics of my daughter."  
  
McQueen chuckled, remembering the way Cassie would change her voice and body language for different roles. "She would make a good actor." He sat down.  
  
"Oh, that would go over well with my family." Silver shook her head. "Acting is fine as a hobby, but as a career? Not that I mind. Hell, I joined the Marines."  
  
"I take it soldiering is ranked down there with acting?" Ross chewed on his unlit cigar.  
  
"Oh, no. Soldiering is at least an honorable profession. It is protecting others, like being a policeman or a fireman. And they aren't quite as good as being a doctor these days." Silver smiled sadly. "But then being a family where three quarters of the people are doctors of one sort or another, it does make some sort of sense."  
  
"I suspect Cassie will be a lot like her mother. A non-conformist." McQueen smiled. "I saw a lot of similarities."  
  
"Let's see, that would be: stubborn, arrogant, bossy, and strong willed."  
  
"All good traits in an officer," Ross stated. "Or a doctor."  
  
"But disastrous in a teenager." Silver shook her head. "Fortunately, Cassie seems to have also gotten a healthy dose of common sense."  
  
McQueen fished out the cards. "If we're going to talk, let's at least play some poker."  
  
"Good idea. Ross, would you please get me some water?"  
  
"Certainly."  
  
Two hours later, McQueen sat wondering about Silver. Her playing struck him as erratic, not what he had expected. Sitting back, he spotted the painkiller being pumped into her IV line and understood. He opted for three cards. "Silver, would the drugs affect anyone who drank from you?"  
  
"Yes, part of the reason for Griffon. He's providing both for me and for the others. When I can stay off the painkillers for a while, I'll be ready for the exchange."  
  
"But you won't be ready for the sex," pointed out Ross.  
  
"You'd be surprised what a bit of determination can do." Silver shared a look with McQueen.  
  
After a second, McQueen asked, "Ross, in or what?"  
  
"Three hundred."  
  
"Hm. Must be a good hand. Only two cards. Three fifty." Silver folded her cards together and set them on the table.  
  
As her eyes closed, McQueen said, "Four hundred."  
  
"Four fifty."  
  
"Five." Silver opened her eyes, watching them both.  
  
"Call."  
  
With a grin, McQueen saw he beat them both. "Let's see. That make one thousand pennies you owe me, Glen. And seven fifty from you, Silver."  
  
"Aren't pennies fun? Bet by the hundreds and you don't lose your shirt." Silver chuckled. "Of course, I wouldn't mind if you did lose your shirts." She included Ross in her mischievous look.  
  
Ross bent his head, paying more attention than necessary to gathering the cards. "One more hand. I still have that damn inventory to finish tomorrow." He started shuffling.  
  
"Have I made you uncomfortable, Ross?" Silver tried to move her right hand toward him and grimaced at the pain. "I didn't mean to."  
  
"It's just- I'm not used to-"  
  
"A woman admitting she likes looking at the handsome men she's around?" Silver smiled. "It's ok. Ross, I will never do anything that you don't want. I can keep from including you in such moments."  
  
For a long moment, Ross studied Silver. "Just keep it private."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Ross dealt the next hand. At the end, Ross had reduced what he owed McQueen to two hundred and fifty pennies and Silver actually owed him three hundred. As he once more gathered the cards, Ross said, "Silver, I meant what I said. I want you on the bridge, at least until you're fully healed."  
  
"I know. I'll be there." Silver sighed.  
  
The cards neatly stacked, Ross handed them to McQueen. "Good night, Ty."  
  
"Good night, Glen."  
  
"Good night, Ross."  
  
"Good night, Silver. And heal up quickly."  
  
McQueen sat quietly watching Silver as her eyes closed. He waited several minutes before saying, "Soul mates."  
  
"You have got to stop eavesdropping. Didn't anyone ever tell you it's a bad habit?"  
  
"But I seem to discover the most interesting things when I do." McQueen crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. "It does explain a couple of things. Especially why I trusted you so quickly."  
  
"That was quickly?"  
  
He grinned. "Physically. I don't like being touched; Silver, not by just anyone. And yet I not only allowed you to give me a massage within twenty- four hours of meeting you, but I turned complete control over to you during it. I do not do that." McQueen shook his head.  
  
"I understand what you're saying. Could you please get me some water?"  
  
"Of course." McQueen rose and refilled the glass. "I don't know if I'll ever be ready to hear the full story, but I am pleased to know I do have a soul, even if it has lived before. And I don't want to get into a religious discussion right now."  
  
"Neither do I." Silver sipped her water, letting her eyes close.  
  
"Shall I get a nurse?" He saw the pain in her face. "You were hiding the pain from Ross."  
  
"He doesn't need to worry about me. And no, don't get the nurse. I just need a few minutes of rest. Don't go anywhere, hm?" She set the glass on the table, eyes still closed.  
  
"I'll be right here...Lysa"  
  
Taking the cards, McQueen put them on the stand next to the books. He sat down with the computer pad and started writing his mission report. With occasional glances at her, McQueen knew when she slipped into sleep. Half an hour later, he had finished a rough draft of the report.  
  
"And what has you so busy?'  
  
"The mission report." He saved and set it aside. "Feel better?"  
  
"At least up to a game of chess. Maybe even two. I don't expect to win."  
  
"Not a chess player?"  
  
"Not a very good one." She laughed quietly. "Surprising, considering my abilities as a tactician and strategist."  
  
Setting up the travel sized magnetic board, McQueen said, "It's been a while since I played, so we'll see who wins."  
  
A hard won battle thirty minutes later; McQueen put the chess pieces away. "I brought a reader for you."  
  
"Thanks. Set it on the table, please. Good game."  
  
Doing so, McQueen asked, "Do you want me to leave?"  
  
"No. I'm not ready to read it yet. Some Bach would be nice about now."  
  
"To soothe the battle scars? You fought hard."  
  
"Still lost."  
  
"So? Think of it as only one battle in the war. Tomorrow you might win."  
  
Silver snorted and grimaced. "Damn shoulder and ribs."  
  
Reaching into the bag, McQueen brought out a disc and slipped it into the player. The strains of Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring on organ filled the room. He watched as the lines of strain around Silver's mouth eased slightly.  
  
"Where did you get that? You didn't have much in the music department before."  
  
"Finch. I borrowed it from her. While you were gone, I started listening. I've placed a few orders of my own."  
  
"You don't have to, you know." Silver met his gaze steadily.  
  
"I know. I want my own copies." McQueen smiled. "I found I like Vivaldi, Mozart, and Beethoven. Russell has continued to introduce Hawkes to various, ah, what did he call them?" Frowning, McQueen racked his memory. "Right, rock and roll bands."  
  
"That's Russell. I decided that those two had pretty similar musical tastes. Russell has more variety, but then he's been alive a while longer."  
  
McQueen pondered the wisdom of what he was going to say next, but decided to broach the subject anyway. "Hawkes was taking, I'd have to say, lessons from Finch, Russell, and St. John."  
  
"Lessons? I take it they weren't singing lessons."  
  
Shaking his head, McQueen said, "And they weren't lessons of war."  
  
"That leaves bedroom lessons. They are good teachers." Silver smiled. "Are you worried about it?"  
  
"No. It's just hard to explain. I found them all in the shower together."  
  
"Must have been interesting."  
  
"That is one way of putting it." McQueen paused, rallying his thoughts. "Do you know Hawkes' history?"  
  
Silver nodded. "Some, any way, enough to reason out his behavior. I know he left the facility early and I gather from remarks Russell has let drop that the Monitors were going to kill him for asking who monitored the Monitors. He survived on the streets for several years, doing odd jobs. Then some co- workers tried to kill him and it was Hawkes who got caught. The judge sentenced him to the Corps."  
  
"That's it in a nutshell. But he was also subjected to a lot of the same things I was." A shudder coursed through McQueen at the memories. "You have a good idea of what I mean."  
  
"Yes. And I still intend to get you to talk about it. Have to work on those nightmares."  
  
Curtly, McQueen nodded. "Hawkes' past makes it difficult for him to trust others, especially when it comes to sex. Yet those three somehow managed to earn that trust and Hawkes gave himself freely. Do you realize what that entails?"  
  
"I think so. I had to earn their trust all those years ago and there was only one of me. But it was worth the effort."  
  
"How did you survive?"  
  
Frowning slightly, Silver shifted position. "It was difficult. I lucked out that most of the planets we fought on were marginally habitable and had some sort of warm blooded life."  
  
"So you would disappear and hunt?"  
  
"Yes. It was Jackson who found out about me first. The man had the soul of an artist and he was in the Marines." Silver shook her head. "He started following me around, unobtrusively he thought. I managed to lose him before I went hunting most of the time. Then once he actually came across me gutting an animal I'd brought down. There I was crouched, naked as a jaybird, cutting open a creature twice my size. I'd already taken as much of its life force as I could and killed it."  
  
"What did he do?"  
  
"He stared at me and asked if I was another experiment. I decided to be blunt and said that no I wasn't. I was a vampire. He looked at me strangely and walked away. I found out later he waited until he could get to the library and he looked up vampires. Then he came to my quarters and asked me all sorts of questions. In the end, he asked to become a remal. That's our word for those who we drink from. It actually has more to it than that. He sounded out several of the others, including the three you know. He made good choices. I was able to cover a lot of it by conducting singing lessons, reading sessions, and other activities in my quarters. A bit harder here."  
  
"When did he die?"  
  
"Deimos."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be. He volunteered to go down on Deimos. And I fully agreed with the decision to go to Ixion. We had to take it."  
  
"We lost so many lives, though."  
  
"And we'll lose a lot more before the war is over. World War II cost Earth seventeen million military men in less than six years. In two years we've lost, what, five million? Out of how many billion? The only way we can cut this war short is to gear up the entire planet, produce more soldiers, ships and equipment, and bury the Chigs under the tidal wave. Unfortunately, with Aerotech's fingers in the political pie, that isn't going to happen. So, a lot of lives will be lost before this war is ended."  
  
The bitterness in her voice echoed the bitterness he felt toward Aerotech. The damned CEOs had known about the fact the two colonies were going into territory that the Chigs had warned Aerotech were in Chig space. Hell, Aerotech already knew about the Chigs before the colonies had been sent out. But they had wanted a war as a way to get authorization to research into some shady areas. And it gave them a reason to continue producing IVs.  
  
McQueen forced his thoughts back to Silver. "We need to talk. And I'm not sure how to say what I need to." He sat up straight, trying to meet her eyes and having difficulty.  
  
"Which subject do you want to tackle first?" Silver took his right hand in her good one. "I'll not hold how you say something against you. Just don't take offense if I rephrase your words, hm?"  
  
McQueen shook his head; pleased she had taken his hand. "First, are you willing to stay? I mean, with the 58th? And me?"  
  
"Triple yes."  
  
"Do you want to stay?"  
  
"Yes. Easy one."  
  
"I wasn't sure. And let me say it again. I'm sorry about the way I treated you. It was extremely rude and thoughtless of me." He hoped his contriteness showed.  
  
She squeezed his fingers. "Apology accepted and I won't hold it over your head."  
  
"Thank you." McQueen took a deep breath, not sure he was ready to delve into the next topic. "Just what does consort entail?"  
  
"No more eavesdropping, McQueen."  
  
He nodded once sharply.  
  
"If you hear a subject that you want to know more about, ask me. I will not take offense, no matter how it may seem. I will always give you an answer, sometimes it may take a day or two, but I will answer your question. My promise."  
  
"I can live with that."  
  
"Because of our particular needs, vampires don't practice monogamous marriage exactly. For appearance's sake, we pick a primary opposite and declare that one to be our spouse.' And they are for the most part exactly that, our husband or wife, our primary spouse. The one we come back to every night. The one we want to spend time with. But when you need roughly ten individuals to keep you healthy, monogamy just doesn't cut it. We prefer for our close circle to be those we care for, want to have children with, sort of an extended family with multiple spouses. And a lot of times, the regulars take a primary among the circle."  
  
"Was Cassie's father a consort?"  
  
"No. I am truly fond of Robert. He is a good friend and a great father to Cassie, but I never offered him the position of consort. I've never offered it to anyone. And I haven't actually offered it to you, either."  
  
"I know. I need to understand, though." McQueen hesitated. "Would Robert be a member of your circle?"  
  
"No. Though I would consider him a second tier circle. Just outside the immediate one."  
  
"Is Cassie a vampire?"  
  
"Don't know yet. She's pretty close to the age when I started showing signs. But vampires mating with other vampires do not usually make other vampires. It tends to make remal, those who are born with the viral symbiote, but it never becomes fully active. Remal are members of our family, our brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, and family. For them, sharing blood with a vampire gives them the edge. Their symbiote never activates, but it allows them to retain the edge for longer and they make great mates. Vampire to vampire, you usually get one out of four being a vampire. Vampire to remal, you tend to get half and half, same with remal and remal. My family clan is a bit unusual. My father, a vampire, married my mother, a remal, and every single one of their four children turned out vampires."  
  
McQueen's gaze dropped to their joined hands. "Silver, why do you say either McQueen or use my full name?"  
  
"You've never given me permission to do otherwise."  
  
His gaze narrowed in a frown. "Permission?"  
  
"It is considered bad manners among my family to call someone by a nickname or a shortened version of their name without their permission."  
  
"No one has ever asked my permission. Not even Glen."  
  
"But I bet he made sure you were comfortable with his using Ty."  
  
McQueen thought back to the early times with Ross and realized that, in a way, Ross had asked permission. "He asked if I was ok with him calling me Ty."  
  
"And you answered him?"  
  
"Only in private. But over the years, he's used it in other circumstances and I haven't objected." He met her eyes.  
  
Silver nodded.  
  
"What do you want to call me?"  
  
"Ty would be good. Short and easy."  
  
"Then please do so."  
  
"Very well."  
  
"Is it all right if I call you Lysa?"  
  
"It is my name, Ty. And I haven't objected to you using it before now."  
  
"I need to know for certain. I have the feeling I'm in an emotional minefield and I am trying to avoid the mines."  
  
Silver smiled at the image. "You're doing ok. No need to kick your butt."  
  
"Thanks, I think." His smile faded. "Lysa, there are a lot of things we need to talk about, but I think I better call it quits for the night. After I've had some time to think through what I've learned tonight, I'll be ready to continue. I'll be here tomorrow some time. I'm giving the squad some time off until the day after tomorrow. Then it's back to the regular schedule, except that they're not on flight duty for a week."  
  
"Good idea. Try to get some sleep."  
  
"I'll try." McQueen stood up, still holding her hand. "Lysa, I really want to try to make a relationship with you. How far this relationship will go, I don't know right now. Can you accept that?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
With a sigh of relief, McQueen leaned over and kissed her. He cradled her head between his hands and tried to tell her with the kiss how serious he was. Her good hand curled around his neck, avoiding the raised neck navel.  
  
When he broke off for air, McQueen smiled gently. "Hope that helps with the pain a bit."  
  
"Very nice." A satisfied look shone in Silver's eyes. "Go to bed, Ty."  
  
"Night, Lysa."  
  
"Night, Ty."  
  
****  
  
In his quarters, McQueen sat down at his desk, Wang's letter in hand. He slipped the disc into the optical reader and smiled at the familiar face that appeared. Before activating the letter, he studied the face, seeing that the lines of pain had eased considerably. Paul seemed to be recovering from the intense sessions.  
  
He activated the letter. Paul's rich voice filled the room.  
  
Dear Colonel McQueen,  
  
I've started this letter several times since you left. Each time I decided it was too emotional. But I finally decided it had to be.  
  
Sir, thank you. Thank you for sharing with me about the AIs breaking you. It really helped. It took time, but I can look in the mirror and not see a loser. I can live with myself again.  
  
Thank you for caring. I know and understand that it's difficult for you to express the depth of your caring for us. And that as our commanding officer, many would view it as inappropriate. To hell with them and propriety. The 5-8 is different than other units. What makes us so, I don't know. My knowing that you cared for us and for me really helped me get through this exhausting regeneration process.  
  
At first I know I had to provide the anchor for you. And the fact you let me, well, sir, it meant a lot to me. I know you felt uncomfortable about needing me and you retreated from the physical contact, but you still hung onto my hand, allowing me to know you still needed me there.  
  
And you were there for me. You could have left me to finish my testing alone. But you stayed, holding my hand and talking to me. I've probably got most of those Sonnets memorized now. So, thank you for caring.  
  
You also helped me find a way to get through the time after you were gone. Using the letters from the gang was a great idea. I have them all memorized, but I still play them, needing to see their faces. I just wish I had one from you.  
  
I'll start wrapping this up, sir. Thank you for everything. Always coming through for us in the end. It wasn't your fault the so-called peace talks' failed so disastrously. It wasn't your fault I nearly died. It wasn't your fault Vansen and Phousse were shot down. So don't feel guilty about any of it.  
  
Take care of the gang for me. Especially Colonel Silver. I don't know what it is about her, but don't let her get away. Not from the unit, or from you. I can't explain it, but I feel she is important to the survival of the 58th, emotionally and physically. Take care of her, sir. Be there for her, sir.  
  
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.  
  
Love,  
  
Paul Wang'  
  
McQueen blinked back tears. Before he could reject the idea, he removed Paul's disc and slipped a clean one in. He hit the record and once the green light showed started speaking.  
  
Dear Paul,  
  
I've just finished your letter. It is I who should thank you. I know there were times I came down hard on you. I felt I had to. I should have said this before I left and I can tell from your letter that you understand why I didn't, but I need to tell you now. Thank you. Thank you for promising to be there during the regeneration. Thank you for keeping me grounded and sane during those initial few sessions. The only reason I survived them was because of you. Thank you for accepting what little I could offer in return.  
  
I'll take care of the 58th to the best of my ability and as the war allows. Colonle Silver included." A single tear escaped and McQueen did not brush it away. "Thank you, Paul. And... I love you, kid."  
  
Hitting the stop button, McQueen saved the recording on the disc. He resolutely went about the process of preventing erasure and packaged it to be mailed. With a determined look, McQueen wrote a quick note and stuck it on the small package.  
  
"Don't chicken out. Send it." 


	10. Blood and Souls, Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
McQueen made his first stop in the morning, at 0630, the mailroom. He paid for the shipping on the package and watched it disappear into a mailbag. Turning away, he smiled to himself. "Too late to back out, McQueen. You don't mess with the U.S. mail."  
  
He ate breakfast, alone, and knew that the squad had slept in. To his own surprise, he had slept the night through, once he had gone to sleep around 0130.  
  
On arriving in Sickbay, McQueen frowned on hearing the nurses speculating as to what was wrong with Col. Silver. Five nurses and Dr. Connelly stood outside Silver's room.  
  
"Dr. Connelly."  
  
The head doctor of the Sickbay turned to him in obvious relief and moved him down the corridor away from the nurses. In a low voice, she explained. "Colonel, we've been ordered out of Col. Silver's room by this Griffon fellow. He said it was too dangerous for us. He insisted that none of the staff go in until you had declared it safe. It sounded like a war in there ten minutes ago. It's been quiet in there since."  
  
Dread filled McQueen. "Did she sleep last night?"  
  
Connelly shook her head, shoulder length blonde hair breaking loose of a ponytail. "She refused a sedative when it was offered."  
  
"She was in pain when I left last night," admitted McQueen. He started for her room. "All right, doctor. Keep your people away from this room for now. I'll try to find out what has occurred."  
  
As the doctor shooed the nurses away, McQueen rested his hand on the swing door, listening, silence, then a whisper.  
  
"McQueen." Griffon sounded weak.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Her three, now." The hoarse whisper trailed off.  
  
"What happened, Griffon?" McQueen asked lowly.  
  
Griffon's voice faded in and out. "Pain... control... hunger loose."  
  
"Damn." McQueen bowed his head against the door. "And now?"  
  
"Controlled. Sleeping. I need..."  
  
"I'll get them. Hang in there."  
  
McQueen spun on his heel. As he reached the nurses' station, he saw Connelly. "Doctor, I'll be back in a few minutes. No one is to go in there."  
  
"Do you know what is happening?"  
  
"Yes. And it's difficult to explain. I don't have time to try right now. "  
  
"Later?"  
  
McQueen nodded curtly.  
  
"I'll hold you to that, colonel."  
  
"Thought you might, doctor."  
  
Striding through the Saratoga's corridors, McQueen hoped that Griffon had not been drained too far. Slamming open the barrack's hatch, McQueen saw that the squad was in the process of dressing. "Russell, Finch, St. John. Sickbay on the double!"  
  
Heads snapped around and faces paled.  
  
"Move it!" He started back.  
  
As the three caught up with him, McQueen saw that they had thrown on their flight suits and nothing else. Their bare feet pounded the cold metal decking in rhythm with his own boots.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
On reaching an empty intersection, McQueen paused. "It's bad, Russell. She lost control. The pain was too much. I think she wiped the floor with Griffon. He needs you now."  
  
"This is really bad." Finch shook her head. "Let's go."  
  
The four of them pounded into Sickbay and McQueen stopped before Silver's room.  
  
"I'm staying out here until one of you or Griffon tell me it's safe to come in."  
  
St. John nodded. "Good idea, sir."  
  
McQueen watched them slip into the room.  
  
"Ah, bloody hell," he heard Russell say.  
  
"Griffon, you have to wake up. Come on, Griffon." He could hear Finch slapping Griffon's face.  
  
"Damn, they ripped the place apart. Where is she?" St. John's voice was sharp. "Guys, she's on the floor, in primal form. There's blood all over the place. This is serious shit."  
  
"Griffon, easy. We're here. Just relax. There, drink from Russell. Good. Slow down, take it easy. All right, time for you to drink from St. John. See, here he is. Colonel, we're going to need Griffon's group in here now. And better arrange for some blood. Russell's unconscious right now. Griffon, slow down. There. Let me get him out of the way."  
  
McQueen grimaced and reached the nurses' station in seconds. He wrote on a pad. "I need an orderly to deliver this to Deck 11, VIP Quarters Four. At a run."  
  
As Connelly took it and handed it to a young man, he waited impatiently. As soon as he could, he pulled her aside and continued. "Better pull the charts for the 5-8. Find out the blood types of Russell, Finch and St. John. Get blood for them. Then when the people I've sent for arrive, find out their blood types. Get some blood for them... and for me. Just in case."  
  
"I really want to know what is going on now. You will tell me everything later, colonel?"  
  
"I will, doctor."  
  
"All right. Anything else you think I better get ready?"  
  
"Possibly an OR. I won't know until I actually get in there. And I'm not going in until they tell me it's safe."  
  
Nurse Temple arrived and took in the scene. She approached McQueen and Connelly. "It's Col. Silver, right? Something happened either last night or this morning."  
  
Nodding, Connelly said, "This morning. This Griffon fellow said it had become dangerous to go in there."  
  
Temple frowned and looked at McQueen. "You know what she is?"  
  
"Yes. Do you?"  
  
"I can hazard a guess. I can get you five more people."  
  
"Five? They'll do it, no questions asked?"  
  
"Yes. Just going to need some intervention to get them out of their duties."  
  
"I can do that, but I want to know what the hell you two are talking about." Connelly crossed her arms and stared up at McQueen from her five and a half foot height.  
  
Recognizing the stubborn look, McQueen sighed. "Col. Silver is a vampire, doctor. She needs blood. Fresh blood."  
  
To his surprise, Connelly merely frowned slightly. "All right. You can give me the full explanation later. Nurse Temple, contact these people's supervisors. Tell them your people are to report to Sickbay immediately under my authority. The commodore will back me up."  
  
Nurse Temple nodded. "Thanks, doctor. You'll understand later."  
  
Closing his eyes in relief, McQueen sighed. He gave Connelly a sad smile. "I promise to explain. With luck, tonight. Dinner?"  
  
"Done."  
  
"Officer's Mess, 1800. Is that all right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
McQueen smiled. "Now, I better get back to the ones in Silver's room."  
  
Outside her room, McQueen listened. Silence again greeted him. He was about to push his way in regardless when the young woman he had seen in Griffon's quarters, followed by two other women and a young man, arrived.  
  
"Colonel, wait. Let us go in first."  
  
He nodded.  
  
The four entered and McQueen listened again.  
  
"Damn. All right, Michael, get those three out of here. Make sure they get some replacement blood. At least, they're still alive. Barb, let Grif drink from you. We'll pull him off before he goes too far."  
  
The young man backed out of the room, dragging Russell. McQueen motioned for orderlies to take the unconscious Marine.  
  
"I've arranged for blood."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
Michael brought out Finch next. When he brought out St. John, McQueen carried the Marine himself over to a gurney. Then satisfied that the three were being taken care of, he returned to his vigil outside Silver's room. He felt Connelly's presence.  
  
"I take it you are listening to what is going on in there."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Damn, but I wish I had your hearing."  
  
"But not the other things that come with it, doctor." McQueen gave her a knowing smile. "You're a good doctor and I think I'm going to find out you are an exceptional human. But you wouldn't want the hearing if you had to have everything else that goes with it."  
  
"You're probably right, but there are times... Should I be worried about what is going on?"  
  
Cocking his head slightly, McQueen listened. "No. They're helping the other vampire, Griffon."  
  
"How many of them are there?"  
  
"Just the two."  
  
Michael came out. "Have to get him a clean uniform. Be back."  
  
Nurse Temple approached. "They're on their way. How bad is it, colonel?"  
  
"She was in primal form. Griffon could barely talk to me. The room is trashed."  
  
"Damn. I knew I should have talked to you last night. I was pretty sure about her when Griffon locked himself in there with her the first day and she started healing. But I talked myself out of it."  
  
"How do you know about them?"  
  
Temple smiled at McQueen. "My father is one. I, thank God, am not. I mean, there are certain advantages, but I never wanted to be one. Being the other half is a lot less demanding."  
  
"I don't understand," admitted McQueen.  
  
"How long have you known?"  
  
"Since I went to retrieve her."  
  
"Let me guess. The three we just started pumping blood into sort of dumped it on you."  
  
"An accurate statement."  
  
Temple shook her head. "Now is not the time to get into this."  
  
"I've already promised Dr. Connelly dinner and an attempt to explain. Would you please join us and provide us both with some explanations?"  
  
"Do you honestly think I would turn down a dinner invitation from one of the sexiest men on the ship?" When McQueen glanced away, cheeks burning, she said, "Colonel, face it. One of the reasons all those man hunters go after you is because of your looks."  
  
"She's definitely right about that." Connelly smiled at McQueen's head shaking. "And I've learned in the last three months that when she's right, she's right."  
  
McQueen was about to argue the point when he decided it was not worth it. He spotted two men in Army uniforms near the nurses' station. "Are those two of your recruits, nurse?"  
  
She looked and smiled. "Yes." Temple hurried over and talked to them in a low voice as she escorted them to Silver's room. "Col. McQueen, Dr. Connelly, this is Sgt. Jackson," a scarred faced man, "and Lt. Peters," a brown haired man. "They know the score and the risk."  
  
"Thank you, gentlemen." McQueen gestured to the doors. "Go on in."  
  
Five minutes later, Michael returned, carrying a black flight suit over his shoulder.  
  
The young woman stuck her head out after a moment. "Colonel, please come in."  
  
The sight that greeted McQueen shocked him. The machines that had monitored Silver were destroyed; not even spare parts for other machines. The bed lay on its side and he stepped carefully around the blood that spotted the floor to cautiously peer over it. Silver lay curled up, in four-footed form. He winced at the still very raw wounds.  
  
"She broke the damn shoulder again." The young woman crouched fearlessly near Silver. "She's in a bad way. That's why Griffon wants to speak with you."  
  
Griffon lay on the floor near the door, stripped to bare skin. Gaping wounds from Silver's claws crossed his abdomen and lower chest.  
  
Crouching beside Griffon, McQueen said softly, "Griffon."  
  
Slowly the brown eyes opened and McQueen nearly recoiled at the level of pain in them. Griffon's voice barely reached McQueen's ears. "You must send a message. Channel 382, scrambled. No one will answer you. Say S & G greet Hakur. Jalke team needed. Saratoga out.' Got it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good." With a sigh, Griffon slipped into unconsciousness.  
  
"Sir, we'll clean up this room before we move Griffon to a bed." The young woman stood up.  
  
"What about Silver?"  
  
"She's beyond anything we can do. Just hope she hangs in there until the team gets here."  
  
"What is this Jalke team?"  
  
"Sir, all I can tell you is that they are equipped to handle situations like this. Silver nearly killed Griffon. Even with all the blood he's had, he's in serious shape. Go send the message, sir. We'll take care of them."  
  
Realizing he was being dismissed, McQueen nodded curtly and left the room, careful not to let the door open too far. To Doctor Connelly, he said, "I think you can safely consider all equipment in the room as trash. I don't think your staff will be able to go in for some time. I'm going to put the 5-8 on guard duty here. Nurse Temple, will you make sure they know who can go in safely?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Colonel, I want to see my patient."  
  
"It is not possible right now, doctor. Not unless you have some veterinarian experience I don't know about."  
  
"What?"  
  
"She's not in human form, doctor. She's in some four footed form." McQueen sighed. "Look, I don't understand it much more than you do, doctor. Now I have to make a call."  
  
With a frown, Dr. Connelly nodded.  
  
McQueen strode through the corridors to the 5-8's barracks, hoping that they were still there. He closed the hatch behind him. "I need guards on Silver's room."  
  
"What's happened, sir?" asked Hawkes.  
  
"I'm not exactly sure. She went after Griffon this morning. Nearly killed him. She's back in four footed form and not responding. Nurse Temple will be able to tell you who can and can't go into Silver's room." As Hawkes rose, McQueen said, "Hawkes, take a good look in her room. And think about what you see. When we can, we'll have that discussion with her."  
  
"Yes, sir." Hawkes nodded.  
  
"Any one else?"  
  
West rose. "I'll guard her."  
  
"And I will, too." Vansen stood by her bunk.  
  
"Count me in." 'Phousse sighed, rising.  
  
"What about Russell and the others?" asked Hawkes.  
  
"They're in Sickbay themselves. Griffon drank them down too far. We could have lost them."  
  
"Damn." West frowned.  
  
"Have any of you eaten?"  
  
"No, sir. We were waiting to hear from you as to what was up," explained Vansen.  
  
"All right. Two of you go guard Silver. The other two go eat. Switch off. I'll be down when I can. I have to send a message and talk to the commodore."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
McQueen nodded to Vansen and headed for the command bridge. He commandeered the communications console, kicking the lieutenant politely but firmly out of his place. Finding the right frequency, McQueen set the signal to scramble and spoke. "S & G greet Hakur. Jalke team needed. Saratoga out."  
  
"Colonel, what is going on?" Commodore Ross stood behind McQueen, keeping his voice low.  
  
"Remember what I told you about Silver yesterday, sir?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well, she's had a relapse, a serious one. Griffon has been severely injured. He gave me a message to send. I've placed the 5-8 on guard duty outside her room. Also, I would like to extend a dinner invitation for you to join myself, Doctor Connelly and Nurse Temple tonight. I might even invite the squadron. Nurse Temple knows about the unique aspects of this situation and will explain."  
  
Ross gestured to the center of the bridge with his chin. As McQueen joined him there, he asked, "Ty, how worried should I be?"  
  
"Worried."  
  
"That is not helpful."  
  
McQueen shrugged. "I'm worried."  
  
"Definitely not helpful."  
  
"I've done everything I can."  
  
Ross closed his eyes. "Are we going to lose her?"  
  
"I can only hope not." McQueen didn't even wince at the anguish the thought caused.  
  
"Enemy fighters approaching, sir," sang out Lt. Crowe, his head bent over his console. "Range, ten mikes out. Twenty thousand MKS."  
  
With a sigh, McQueen slid under the railing and went to the fighter station. "How many?"  
  
"A hundred... two... three hundred or so, sir. The computer is estimating the number."  
  
McQueen took a deep breath as he slipped his headset on. "Squadrons 4-4, 6- 4, 8-9, and 100. To launching bays."  
  
"Laser batteries, take those fighters out of my sky," barked Ross. He went to stand behind McQueen. "The 5-8?"  
  
"I'm leaving them guarding Silver." He lowered his voice, covering the mike. "State she's in, Glen, if she broke free, she'd be more dangerous than the Chigs."  
  
"All right. Keep them there. But I suspect they'll not be happy about missing the fight."  
  
"Right now, sir, I don't think you could pay them enough to get into their fighters."  
  
"That bad?"  
  
"Definitely. They'll be ready for the next fight, but this one, no, sir. After eighty hours locked into a Hammerhead, they need some serious down time. Some R&R would be nice."  
  
"Other squadrons might not understand."  
  
"Probably not, sir. But we'd deal with it." McQueen uncovered the mike as he received an update. "6-4 launch." One by one, he authorized the launching of the fighters. He leaned back in his chair, thinking. "Sir, these fighters, they're short range."  
  
"So you're thinking we have some Hive ships hiding somewhere nearby." Ross opened a channel to the carrier, Bunker Hill. "Commander Diez, take the destroyers Stout, Higgins and McCain. Sweep the outer edges of the system. Find those Hive ships."  
  
****  
  
Six hours later, McQueen watched dully as the last of the fighter squadrons returned to base. Exhaustion made itself known throughout his body. He coughed, his throat sore.  
  
A large coffee mug appeared, held by Ross. "Drink it. Now."  
  
Gratefully, McQueen took the mug and started drinking the almost scalding hot coffee. Normally he drank it black, but he was desperate for the energy the sugar would give.  
  
"Ty, you look wiped. You're still not fully recovered yourself. Go on. We can handle it from here."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Sipping from the mug, McQueen slipped the head set off and dropped it on the console. He nodded to Ross as he headed for the door, still sipping the coffee. His first stop was the reopened officers' mess where he refilled the coffee and snagged two doughnuts, one covered in chocolate and the other powdered sugar. Wolfing down the doughnuts, he grabbed another chocolate one and started gulping the hot coffee. Another refill and he started nibbling on the doughnut as he strode the corridors to Sickbay. He was just finishing the coffee when he saw West and Hawkes on Silver's door.  
  
Swallowing the last of the coffee, he said, "How is everything?"  
  
"Been quiet. They've got Griffon on a bed in there. He hasn't regained consciousness." West chewed his lower lip. "Silver, well, all they'll tell us is that she's stable."  
  
"That covers a lot of territory. Damn. I was hoping for some sort of improvement." McQueen frowned.  
  
"Sir how was the fight?"  
  
"We took some loses, Hawkes, but the Chigs lost a lot more. We took out three Hive ships, over two hundred fighters, and twenty or so bombers. Over all, we won this one decisively." He met Hawkes' eyes. "You know why I left you here?"  
  
Both Hawkes and West nodded. "Yes, sir. We traded with Shane and 'Phousse after three hours. They'll be back soon. We all understand."  
  
"I want the four of you at the Officers' Mess at 1800 hours. Nurse Temple is going to do some explaining and I'd like the squadron to hear it as well."  
  
"Who else will be there, sir?"  
  
"Dr. Connelly and the commodore."  
  
"Exalted company, sir. We'll make sure Hawkes doesn't talk with his mouth full again." West chuckled.  
  
"Man, aren't you ever going to forget that?"  
  
"No."  
  
McQueen nodded toward Silver's room. "Can I go in?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Jean said-" At McQueen's blank look, West explained, "She's the young blonde in charge in there. She said that you were cleared to go in. Jean's the only one in there right now."  
  
"Thanks. Did you two get to eat?"  
  
"Yes, sir. The red alert sounded just as we were sitting down so we took our food to the barracks. We'll return the stuff when the girls take over here."  
  
"Good. Make sure, though, that they get to eat."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Silver's room had been cleaned and cleared, McQueen saw as he entered. The damaged machines were gone, blood no longer spotted the floor and the bed had been righted. On it lay Griffon. To the side, sprawled in the chair, sat the young woman he assumed was Jean, apparently sleeping. He couldn't see Silver so he crouched down to look under the bed. Curled up, still in primal form, rested Silver, her chest barely rising with each breath.  
  
"Colonel." Jean's voice was quiet. "It's all right. You can touch her. She most likely won't respond."  
  
For a long second, McQueen resisted the urge to sit down on the floor beside Silver. He didn't know Jean and hated to reveal the depth of his feelings to those who didn't know him. With a sigh, McQueen realized that Jean already knew everything there was to know and he sat down on the floor, twining his fingers into Silver's fur. "What's wrong with her?"  
  
"At a guess, colonel, she's at death's door."  
  
McQueen closed his eyes, bowing his head.  
  
"You sent Griffon's message?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Then we have a chance. I'm not a doctor, but I know her injuries are severe. Can you tell me anything? I need a better understanding for when the team gets here."  
  
"She called herself walking dead at one point." Aware that the comment did not help the situation, McQueen forced his mind to focus. "I know she broke the shoulder, a bunch of ribs, had internal bleeding, the damn burns, and various sprains. She did say that if she were merely a tank, she would have been dead."  
  
Jean's breath hissed as she breathed in sharply. "That bad? Shit. No wonder."  
  
"Please explain." He looked at her.  
  
"Colonel, you know how much damage a normal human can take and still keep going if they're really determined, right?"  
  
"Quite a lot."  
  
"And I'm sure that you are aware of just how much more damage an IV can take."  
  
McQueen nodded.  
  
"Well, under normal circumstances, vampires can take the same ratio as IV to human, only to the IV."  
  
Jaw clenched, McQueen cursed under his breath. He knew first hand how much damage a tank could take and still keep going.  
  
"Does she love you, colonel?"  
  
He managed a jerky nod.  
  
"Then I think that is what is holding her here and not letting her pass through Hakur's door. Jalke is a sucker for love and she may also be keeping her from passing through."  
  
The thought of losing Silver hurt badly and he fastened onto the unfamiliar names. "Hakur? Jalke?"  
  
"How long have you known about vampires?"  
  
"Roughly a week."  
  
Jean closed her eyes. "Shit. This is not the way to learn."  
  
"I agree."  
  
She smiled at him, her eyes sad. Leaning forward, Jean scrubbed her face. "Before I try to explain, colonel, just what do you know about vampires?"  
  
"I've heard her explaining some of it. They came from the other side of the galaxy. Ten thousand years ago, they were forced to leave their home world and wander the galaxy. Thirteen hundred years ago, they arrived on Earth and became human in form. They need blood, or rather life force, to survive. They prefer sex with their blood. They're stronger than IVs. There is something about a symbiote. That there are vampires and remal whose symbiote is not exactly active. I wasn't able to have her elaborate at the time. That pretty much covers what I know."  
  
"A decent base. Okay. Hakur and Jalke were real. They were a vampire and a remal, respectively. At the time that they lived, vampires enslaved the remal, with all the bad images that brings to mind. Hakur fell in love with Jalke. He freed her and took her as his consort. Started all sorts of riots. He found others like himself and drew up the Covenant. Never let it be said that one individual can not change the course of things."  
  
"What is the Covenant?"  
  
"It is what binds the vampires and remal together in life. The Covenant states that no vampire shall drink unto the Death an unwilling life. It also sets up the way we are governed. A vampire rules the Family as Dalian, the defender of the Covenant, and a remal is the High Priest, the keeper of the Covenant, the Hnom. Many times they are consorts, but not always. It is not unusual to have the High Priest be from another family. The successor is always found by the current High Priest."  
  
"And the Dalian successor?"  
  
"Is someone from that line. It has stretched unbroken for twenty-six thousand years. Never straying to more than the equivalent of a cousin."  
  
The thought of a family history that stretched back past the beginnings of human history staggered McQueen's imagination. He forced himself back to the original question. "So this Hakur took Jalke for his consort and ultimately changed the society."  
  
"Within his lifetime. By the time of their deaths, they were honored for giving vampires and remal a new way of living."  
  
"Can you give me a better understanding of remal?"  
  
"We are the brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, lovers, and friends. We love the vampires and they love us. We are a part of each other, two halves of the same creature. Does that help?"  
  
"With what she told me, yes. I take it you are a remal."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Back to Hakur and Jalke."  
  
"Over time, they became quite revered and they became not gods, but more like the status that angels hold. Hakur guards the doorway into the afterlife. He determines if the applicant has lived a worthy enough life to enter. If they haven't, sometimes they are sent back to live again, but mostly if they have lived truly evil lives, they are forced to sit to the sides of the stairway and watch others enter. Those who are deemed worthy are given a choice, to pass through or live again. Many choose to live again, being able to remember any and all previous lives."  
  
"And Jalke, what role does she play in all this?"  
  
"She is the one who tries to see good in every soul. But even Dark Ones get no compassion from her. Do you know what a Dark One is?"  
  
"A vampire gone evil. The legend."  
  
"Yes. And I shouldn't say that Dark Ones get no compassion. There is the story of one Dark One. His name was Rnol. It was on a planet very far away. He had risen to power, holding the Dalian captive. But when an ancient enemy found the planet and started firing on the planet's population, Rnol gathered all of the Family that he could and put them on space ships. Then he drew the enemy's attention onto himself, allowing the Family to escape. He was destroyed, but Jalke argued that he gave his life to insure the continuance of the race. For that, he is allowed to sit upon the steps leading to the afterlife. In the last five thousand years, he has advanced to the third step out of ten. The day will come when he will be allowed to choose."  
  
McQueen shook his head. "I can accept reincarnation, but I can't accept the idea of a supreme being that allows such misery."  
  
"The Master Engineer," Jean smiled as he stared at her. "The Master Engineer set it all in motion and gave all sentience life free will. What they do with it is their own decisions. Every soul will face a reckoning when the life they lead is over. Each race has its own set of guardians under the Master Engineer. For the vampires, the lead ones are now Hakur and Jalke. For humanity, I don't know. The Christian angels and Christ, I'm pretty sure, but few races are so split in their religion."  
  
"And IVs? Where do they fall?"  
  
"Do not doubt yourself, Colonel. You are human. The soul in your eyes is all too real. But I've seen too many IVs whose souls were destroyed while they were young. They will be reborn. The men responsible for destroying those souls will have a lot to account for when they face their reckoning. Do not worry about others, colonel. Continue living your life as you have. From what I know, you are an exceptional man."  
  
McQueen frowned, shaking his head. "Enough religion. Silver at Hakur's door. She has not passed through, correct?"  
  
"Right. She would be dead. Nothing would bring her back. I believe that Jalke holds her there. She has a soft spot for lovers and has been known to work to reunite them."  
  
"But we're not, not truly. We, no, I, I only discovered what she means to me recently."  
  
"Jalke knows, colonel. Don't worry." Jean rose and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Silver will return. Her time here is not up yet."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"I just do. She will return to you. Not many get a second chance, colonel."  
  
"I know." McQueen sighed. "What about Griffon?"  
  
"I'm pretty sure he'll be coming back. He's been badly injured, but I think the team will bring him back."  
  
"What is this team I've sent for?"  
  
"Specialists in dealing with vampires in this condition."  
  
McQueen felt a yawn trying to escape.  
  
"You must be tired, colonel. I'll get you a pillow and blanket. Then you can curl up around her and sleep for a while."  
  
About to say no, he glanced down at Silver. "Does she know I'm here?"  
  
"It's quite possible."  
  
"Then please. I would appreciate it."  
  
Jean slipped out the doors.  
  
Stroking Silver's fur, McQueen felt a presence enter the room. "Yes, Hawkes?"  
  
"I just wanted to see her."  
  
"It's all right, Hawkes. Come here."  
  
Hawkes crouched beside him. Tentatively, he reached out and stroked the silky fur. He did not meet his superior's eyes. "I was listening."  
  
"I figured you would."  
  
"I'm not scared off. I am afraid, but I think... I think I still want to learn and see if it is for me."  
  
McQueen nodded. "Fair enough. We'll talk about it when Silver is up to it."  
  
"Ok. Thank you."  
  
"Are you still on guard duty?"  
  
"No. Shane and Vanessa are. They've eaten. West went to grab a bite."  
  
"Get some rest, Hawkes. Tomorrow, I want all of you to spend some time in the gym. The day after, we're going to resume our regular schedule."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Hawkes, tell Shane that I want the squad to meet me for dinner in the Officer's Mess at 1800 tonight."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Hawkes left and, a moment later, Jean returned. Lying down on the blanket, his arm tucked up under the pillow, McQueen wrapped his free arm over Silver and hugged her tight. He closed his eyes.  
  
****  
  
"Colonel."  
  
McQueen snapped awake, resisting the urge to strike out. He knew the voice. "Yes, Hawkes?" Opening his eyes, he saw Hawkes a judicious distance away.  
  
"The Commodore sent word that you are to report to the bridge."  
  
Rolling away from Silver, McQueen staggered to his feet. He ran his hand over his face. "Tell him I'll be right up. How long have I slept?"  
  
"Four hours, sir."  
  
Nodding, McQueen headed for the bathroom.  
  
He arrived on the bridge ten minutes later. "Sir?"  
  
Ross stood near the view port. "We appear to have some guests, McQueen. Do you know anything about this?" He gestured out the view port.  
  
A sleek one-piece vessel hovered over a landing pad. The length of an ISSCV, it bore no resemblance to a military vessel. McQueen took a closer look and revised his opinion. Tucked up underneath were two rail guns and he spotted what he thought might be a cover for a roof rail gun.  
  
"I think they're here for Griffon and Silver, sir."  
  
"They've asked to speak to you on landing."  
  
McQueen grimaced. "Yes, sir."  
  
"I'm curious as to why they want to talk to you."  
  
"Let's go find out, sir."  
  
With a grin, Ross headed for the door, McQueen right behind him.  
  
****  
  
McQueen forced himself to stand still in the landing bay viewing area. He had no idea why someone from this ship would want to talk to him. Atmosphere filled the bay and the door opened. Eight figures in jet-black uniforms strode through the bay, straight for the airlock. McQueen frowned, more Black Forces. As the airlock started to open, he spotted a ninth person exit the ship, slowly. Shocked, McQueen could only stare.  
  
"Who is it, McQueen?"  
  
"Dr. Jacob Silver, her brother. One of my doctors and my chief physical therapist."  
  
"Don't like him?"  
  
"I never got a chance to know him. I respect him. He didn't have an easy job."  
  
Anything Ross might have said was postponed by the approach of the eight black clad men and women. "Where are they?" demanded a blond man.  
  
"Sickbay," answered Ross.  
  
The blond nodded. "Thank you. We'll take care of things."  
  
As the Black Forces personnel vanished down the corridor, Ross said quietly, "Ty, I think you better take care of Dr. Silver. He looks a bit lost and like he needs a familiar face, even if it's yours."  
  
Scowling, McQueen said, "Better me than you, sir."  
  
Laughing, Ross said, "See if he wants to attend this impromptu dinner you're having in two hours."  
  
"Damn. I lost track of time." McQueen shook his head. "I don't know if he'll be up to it, but he would be an excellent person to have there."  
  
"Thought so."  
  
Resisting the urge to punch his friend in the arm, hard, McQueen turned to the airlock as Jacob Silver stepped wearily through. Four inches short of six foot, Jacob's body had the lean hungry look of a hard working doctor who forgot to eat from time to time. The same dark brown hair, cut short, framed the long thin face, lined with pain. Jeans accentuated the narrow hips and waist and a Levi jacket covered the thin chest. From experience, McQueen knew that there was a lot of strength housed in that thin frame. Hazel eyes filled with aching pain and fear fixed on him and McQueen involuntarily took a step forward. "Dr. Silver." He tried to put all the reassurance he could into the two words.  
  
"Call me Jake. Dr. Silver is my father. I'm always looking around for him when I'm addressed as Dr. Silver." A sad smile on the slightly too wide mouth and Jake held out his hand. "How are you doing, McQueen? Any problem with the leg or the ear?"  
  
"No problems with either. This is Commodore Ross. He commands the Saratoga." He took the man's hand and endured the intense scrutiny.  
  
Jake nodded and released his hold on McQueen's hand. He took Ross' proffered hand and shook it. "Lysa's told me a lot about you, sir. Pleased to meet you at last, though, I'd rather it wasn't this way."  
  
"I understand. And the last time you were here, you didn't stay long enough to even leave your ship." Ross gestured to the ship.  
  
"It's not the Trojan Horse, but it's a lot faster. A member of the family had to come, in a non-professional role. I'm here purely in a personal role, unfortunately. How is she? And Griffon?"  
  
Ross nodded to McQueen.  
  
With a sigh, McQueen said, "All I know is it's bad. She took some really bad injuries while on deep reconnaissance. It looked like she was healing. Apparently last night, she was unable to sleep. Griffon went in to see her this morning. He came out long enough to tell the staff that they weren't to come in under any circumstances and then went back in. I wasn't there, but I saw the shape the room was in later. Everything was broken. Griffon had been ripped open and Lysa had reverted back to primal form. Griffon told me to send the message."  
  
"Well, that certainly answers a few of the other questions." Jake sighed. "Is there someplace to get a cup of coffee?"  
  
"Coffee or something stronger?" asked Ross.  
  
"I have no objection to something stronger."  
  
"I have rum and scotch in my quarters." Ross gave the man a sympathetic look.  
  
"Don't tell me you're into grog. That would be like... too unbelievable to find someone else who likes the stuff." Jake shook his head. "Peter and I are about the only two I know who like the stuff."  
  
"Better make that three. He loves the stuff." McQueen folded his arms and gave his best friend a cool stare. "Makes him feel connected to the sailors of times long gone by."  
  
Ross growled under his breath. "McQueen, I'll get you for that."  
  
"I could really use a drink, gentlemen. Can the revenge wait that long?"  
  
"Damn. I forgot they've got your hearing." Ross shook his head with a wry grin.  
  
Jake gave Ross a hard look, and then turned to McQueen. "I have the feeling that there's a lot going on here that I don't want to know about. So, how about that drink and then you answer a few of my questions. After that, I'll need to eat. It's been twenty hours since I last had a decent meal."  
  
"Hm. Think you can survive on a snack and eat in about two hours?" asked McQueen.  
  
"Why?" Jake narrowed his gaze.  
  
"Well, I have this dinner engagement in two hours. I'm supposed to explain what has happened here to the head of Sickbay and the commodore. I've also invited the rest of the squadron, since they've decided to keep Silver. And there's Nurse Temple, who says she can do some explaining to the rest of us, since I know I don't understand everything. Hell, I'm still getting used the to the idea that you folks actually exist."  
  
Jake went very still. After a long moment, he said softly, "I think I better have a couple of drinks and then you tell me just what the hell has gone on here."  
  
"Don't worry. None of the people involved will talk."  
  
"Now I'm really worried. Can we go now, please?"  
  
Silently Ross led the way to his quarters. Outside, he signaled his steward and discreetly sent him for sandwiches and coffee for his guests. From his small bar, Ross poured two rums and a scotch, handing the others their drinks before he picked up his rum. "Please, have a seat."  
  
Jake gave the room a serious look before settling in the chair that had the least wear and tear. "What did you send that young man off for?"  
  
"Coffee and sandwiches."  
  
With a nod, Jake leaned back.  
  
Silence reigned until the steward returned, bearing a covered tray. The young man set it down on the desk and left without a word. Uncovering the tray, Ross smiled at the three sandwiches and coffee mugs. "The scamp. Determined to make sure I eat. Help yourselves."  
  
Ross took a sandwich and a mug, settling back into his favorite chair.  
  
McQueen nodded to the tray, making sure Jake understood he was to pick next.  
  
With a sigh, Jake took a sandwich and a coffee. He watched as McQueen took the last set and sat down, instantly starting to eat like a man who hadn't eaten for a long time. His sandwich in hand, Jake took a bite, his appetite eaten away by misgivings. It returned with a rush and he devoured his sandwich and coffee. The empty mug on the desk, Jake sank back in the chair and sipped his rum.  
  
"All right, McQueen. Start talking. Who, what, where, how?"  
  
The sharp tone would normally have set McQueen on edge, but he knew vampires were paranoid about their secrecy. "Forgot why." Before Jake could snarl, McQueen smiled softly. "It's all right, Jake. I was serious about my remark earlier. None of the ones involved will talk. Let's see, where to start."  
  
It took McQueen nearly forty-five minutes to relate the tale to Jake. Through it all, Jake sat silently, growing still and pale.  
  
"That brings us up to this morning." McQueen took a drink from his scotch, wishing it were some of Silver's stock. At the taste, his eyes widened as he realized that it was and he knew when Ross had gotten it.  
  
Abruptly, Jake finished his rum in a single gulp and held it out to Ross. "Another one, please."  
  
Pouring, Ross said, "Are you all right?"  
  
"Just peachy," snapped Jake. With a visible effort, he said, "Sorry, but we had no idea things were this bad. Lysa's been fairly closemouthed about her situation out here and our parents have respected her privacy. Now I wish that we had done some checking up on her." He ran a hand through his hair. "Only three to sustain her for three months and then three months on a planet in the middle of nowhere. Throw in life threatening injuries and it's a sure mixture for disaster." Shaking his head, Jake said, "I knew something was wrong when her effects showed up. She's never sent them home before. I'm glad no one told Cassie at the time."  
  
"She had no idea if we'd be able to get to her when the time to extract her arrived." McQueen faced his own demons. "And she had no idea if I would come for her. She could only hope and it was slim at best as far as she knew."  
  
"And now?"  
  
"I need to understand more before deciding on whether to bond with her or any other vampire."  
  
"Fair enough. And that's why you want me to talk at this dinner?"  
  
"Partly. I also think that the people who'll be there deserve to understand what they'll be dealing with, then they can decide if they want that extra danger."  
  
"What's one more danger in the middle of a bloody war zone?" Ross sighed.  
  
"You're right. They do deserve to know what they'll be dealing with. I'll talk to your group. But first, I want to go to Sickbay. Everything should be under control there by now."  
  
"Just what were they going to do?" asked McQueen.  
  
"Give them both vampiric blood, enough to get them over the immediate danger. That's what Griffon was attempting to do for Lysa. Only I suspect her injuries were so severe that he couldn't give her enough and didn't realize it until this morning. So she lost control and barely kept from killing him outright."  
  
"Oh, God." McQueen bowed his head, a shudder running through him at the thought of losing her. He remembered the flight back and how many times she had lost control. "I should have known. The flight back, she had difficulty keeping control. She nearly killed me twice, no, three times, then she gave me blood to heal me."  
  
"That's part of what really worries me. How badly drained she was by the time she got here. Russell and the others should have known better. They've dealt with this before. It should never have gotten this bad."  
  
"They were worried, really worried. At the end of the flight, they were able to give her some blood, but not until then."  
  
"McQueen, the fact that they couldn't have before that point should have been told to Griffon and he would have sent for the team before this happened. They knew this." Jake stood and paced. "They've been on enough of these missions to know what is normal and what is not."  
  
"How many involved Silver and the man they knew she loved?"  
  
Jake glared at Ross. "What are you saying?"  
  
"I'm saying that Silver is thinking about asking McQueen to be her consort."  
  
"What?" Jake snapped erect, shock in his face. "She's what?"  
  
"Is he unacceptable to you? Because of what he is?" Ross growled.  
  
Taken aback by Ross' sudden attack, Jake blinked and frowned. "Unacceptable? Hell, no. His being a tank doesn't matter. It's the idea that she's even considering offering consort to someone. Our parents have been after her for years to declare a consort. She's always refused. For the last ten years almost, she's always met their demands for a consort with excuses. To have her suddenly decide to, it's a shock is all."  
  
"I believe it was part of why she wanted me to enroll in your father's regeneration project." McQueen sat quietly, taking a sip of his scotch. "So that your parents, and her daughter could at least meet me."  
  
"I wouldn't put it past her. She's a wily one Lysa is, hard to figure out sometimes. You're sure about this?"  
  
Ross nodded.  
  
"I see I have a lot to talk to my little sister about." Jake sat back in his chair, shaking his head. "About time, little sis, but why now? We're in the middle of a bloody war, for Christ sake."  
  
"Does that really make a difference?"  
  
"No, commodore, not really. There will be more wars. The universe is not a nice place."  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
Jake gave McQueen a hard look. "We have a racial memory. We remember the trials our people had to get to Earth. There were at least twenty or thirty other races out there, and those were just the ones we ran into. It's possible that we will be able to bridge the gap between them and Earth, if we already know the other race. But there were others we never met. Misunderstandings will occur. A strong military will always be necessary, I'm afraid."  
  
"The only real good thing that this war will produce is a unified Earth," stated Ross. He took a drink.  
  
"Yes. AeroTech's mistake is in letting this war continue as long as it will. They prospered extremely well under a divided Earth. The countries of Earth will have learned cooperation is desirable." Jake's voice held amusement.  
  
"I'm glad our dying gives you occasion to laugh." McQueen frowned.  
  
"Never. It's the thought that when the war is finally over, Aerotech will find itself struggling to rebuild its power base."  
  
"With any luck," McQueen said dryly. "But don't discount the people in charge, especially Hayden. No doubt, she's already realized this and is planning something. After all, she is the Secretary General."  
  
"True, but even she has her enemies, who realize her real agenda, despite appearances to the contrary." Jake smiled. "The truth behind AeroTech's and Hayden's connection to the Chigs is known now to certain groups. They'll work to control the damage done as much as possible. There are others working on winning contracts with the military so that AeroTech is not the only supplier of your hardware. You'll be getting better equipment in the near future."  
  
Ross sighed. "We just have to live long enough to see it."  
  
"I thought we were holding our own or slightly better." Jake frowned.  
  
"Chigs have built Super Hive Ships. Silver found out about three more." Shaking his head, Ross said, "We have nothing heavy enough to stand against the damn things. The last battle the old 'Toga here had with them nearly spelled her doom. I'm not looking forward to the next one. It just might be her last."  
  
Jake bowed his head. "There are no carriers in the works at any of the ship yards I've seen in the last six months."  
  
"And it'll take at least a year to start from scratch." Ross tossed back the remains of his drink. "Damn. We need heavy ships, not destroyers. Carriers and battleships. More fighters."  
  
"The Jupiter Shipyard should be up and running by the end of the month." McQueen finished his scotch. "It'll help some."  
  
Nodding, Ross said, "Let's hope that the bureaucrats are not the ones in charge there. We need a military man who knows what's needed out here."  
  
"General McIntyre has the choice of deciding who will run the facility."  
  
"Thank God." Ross slumped slightly. "He'll insure the administrator knows what we need. A few more tenders wouldn't be a bad idea. I suspect we're going to need repair ships desperately in the near future."  
  
"You have that feeling, too?" McQueen gave his best friend a sharp look.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"If Lysa does too, then I'll pass the word back that those on the front are certain that things are going to pick up again." Jake smiled sadly. "We may not be a military family, but we have tight ties to several who are. Lysa's the first in several generations to choose the military, but she has the gift for it." He chuckled. "Hell, she was always planning campaigns and initiating them to get whatever she wanted, and she was never afraid to fight for it. Her and Peter had several knock down, drag out fights that were, shall we say, spectacular. Peter always seemed to lose them."  
  
"Sounds like her."  
  
"McQueen, don't ever get her angry with you. I mean really angry. I've seen her, once. Everything, and I mean everything, becomes a handy projectile and she rarely misses. Then she waded in and started taking the poor bastard apart. It was only her strict control that kept her from killing him." Jake stared McQueen in the eyes. "She doesn't scream, just gets quiet. Her voice is low, deadly. She'll go completely still. Her eyes will go dark gray. If you even suspect it's aimed at you, run. Get as much distance as you can between you and her for about an hour. It'll be safe after that. The physical storm will have passed. Then you just have to deal with her tongue."  
  
"That's sharp enough." McQueen stared into the empty glass, wanting but knowing better than to have another.  
  
"Indeed. She can flay with that tongue when she gets going. It doesn't help that she has intelligence training. She'll use it against you, if you piss her off. Otherwise, she's pretty good about not using her skills against someone." Jake finished his drink. "It's something that our parents drilled into us. We have a lot of things we can and cannot do. Makes it a pain growing up and hampers us sometimes. But it's the way of the vampire until we can become an acknowledged, integral part of humanity. That is a long way off in the future."  
  
Jake set his empty glass on the desk. "All right, enough of this. I want to see Lysa."  
  
"I'll take you." McQueen stood up, taking his glass and Jake's over to the bar. "See you, Glen, at 1800, ok?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
****  
  
In Sickbay, McQueen found Dr. Connelly at the nurses' station, checking charts. "Doctor, this is Dr. Jake Silver. He's her brother."  
  
"Nice to meet you." Connelly extended a hand.  
  
"And you, doctor. I understand you've been trying to take care of my sister. And she's been a bit uncooperative lately."  
  
"That's an understatement. Can you shed some light on the appearance of eight new individuals?"  
  
"They are here to help Lysa and Griffon, doctor. Afterwards, both of them will be no trouble to you. The particular problems that they have will be taken care of." Jake nodded as Connelly gave him a look of understanding.  
  
"Good." She turned to McQueen. "Is dinner still on?"  
  
"Yes, but there'll be a few more people. I'm bringing the 5-8 and Dr. Silver here as well."  
  
Connelly laughed softly. "Scared to have dinner alone, colonel?"  
  
"No. Just don't have all the answers, doctor."  
  
"Who does?" She patted his arm lightly. "I understand. Colonel, my curiosity has been eating away at me all day. I've done my best not to pester Nurse Temple, but it's been tough."  
  
McQueen glanced at his timepiece. "Thirty minutes to go, I'm afraid."  
  
"Time enough for me to get cleaned up. I'll see you there. No need to come for me or send one of your nice young Marines." Connelly turned and walked away.  
  
Seeing the appraising way Jake was studying Connelly, McQueen smiled to himself. Jake was still single and so was Connelly. "Jake, I need to arrange for replacement guards on Silver while we're at dinner, unless you think everything will be fine before then."  
  
"Guards?" Jake obviously had to jerk his attention back to McQueen. "Oh, I don't think that will be necessary. Not with those eight around."  
  
"I didn't think it would be necessary with Griffon around."  
  
Jake's lips tightened. "You're right. But eight of them can handle Lysa. No way she'll get loose. Don't worry. Everything should be under control. Just let me check in with them."  
  
McQueen led the way the way to where Hawkes and West were standing. "This is Silver's brother, Dr. Jake Silver. He needs to go in and speak to the people who came in earlier."  
  
"Ok, Colonel. They were sort of expecting him a while ago." Hawkes watched Jake go through the door. "Sir, you should have heard the swearing those folks did when they went in. They were really upset about the situation."  
  
"As well they should have been."  
  
"Sir, they sounded like they knew both Griffon and Silver. But they were referring to them as Colonel' and Major.' Sir, is she a BF Major?"  
  
"Yes, Hawkes. She is."  
  
"That explains how good she is." West smiled briefly. "Think she'll pass some of that training onto us, sir?"  
  
"What makes you think she hasn't been?"  
  
Hawkes grinned. "But she's never used the moves the way Griffon did."  
  
"Eat one meal a day, Hawkes, for three months and see how well you do." McQueen gave the young Marine a mock frown. "Use your head. Think about the information you've learned. Put it together. I know there's a brain in that thick skull of yours."  
  
Instead of looking angry at the words, Hawkes merely nodded, surprising West.  
  
"Hey, what have you done with Hawkes?" West couldn't resist the ribbing.  
  
"I'm me. I just know he's right. I should have known why she hasn't been moving like Griffon. I just didn't think about it."  
  
Jake stepped out. "It's all right, McQueen. She's started to seriously heal. So is Griffon. It'll probably be morning before you get to see her again."  
  
McQueen stared past Jake, wanting to see her just once more.  
  
"I'm sorry, McQueen. But she's off limits right now to anyone not one of us."  
  
"They kicked Jean out as soon as they got here, sir." West shrugged. "She didn't look exactly happy about it, but she said that there was nothing she could do in there."  
  
"Eight in the morning, McQueen. They'll let you in then if everything has gone well during the night."  
  
"And if it hasn't?"  
  
"You'll know." Jake started to pat McQueen's arm, but pulled his hand back.  
  
"That's what I'm afraid of."  
  
"Don't worry. After what I saw in there, I'm sure you'll be able to see her then." Jake nodded toward the two young Marines. "Aren't these two of the ones you want to join us?"  
  
"Yes. Hawkes, West, go get cleaned up for dinner. Don't dress up. Just make sure you're clean and in clean uniforms. Dismissed."  
  
"Yes, sir," West and Hawkes chorused before trotting off.  
  
"And yourself?" Jake gave McQueen's rumpled flight suit a quick look.  
  
"Do you need a set of quarters?" McQueen was mindful of the fact that Jake's attire stuck out among all the military personnel.  
  
"No. I think I'll wear what I'm wearing and I'll sleep on the ship. We'll most likely be leaving late tomorrow morning."  
  
"Do you mind waiting in my quarters while I clean up?"  
  
"If you'll let me use the bathroom for a few minutes."  
  
"Not a problem. This way."  
  
In his quarters, McQueen let his guest use the facilities first. He hesitated only briefly before stripping down to his shorts. After all, Jake already had an intimate knowledge of his body.  
  
Jake stepped out of the bathroom and paused for a split second, drinking in the sight of the near naked body. "Damn."  
  
Glancing up, McQueen saw the look in Jake's eyes. "What the hell is it with you vampires? Three out of three start drooling as soon as they see me."  
  
"Can't explain it, McQueen, but it goes all the way back to your first physical therapy session. But I knew better than to follow up." Jake leaned against the wall, his eyes enjoying the view.  
  
Determined to resist the internal heat the steamy look gave him, McQueen started for the bathroom. He paused in the doorway. "Jake, on those later runs, did you run on two or four legs?"  
  
"Two. Though at the end there, I was tempted to run on all fours."  
  
McQueen nodded. He showered quickly; remembering the first run that Jake had subjected him to once he was able to walk unaided. A mile out from the medical complex that the Silver's owned, Jake had both of them dropped off at the side of the road with a canteen of water apiece in the evening.  
  
With a wave of his hand, Jake had said, "Dinner is that way. The sooner we get there, the sooner we eat. For the first several of these, I'll stay right here with you. After that, I'll be nearby, ready to come if you need help."  
  
"You believe in training by fire."  
  
"Lysa said you had three weeks tops if you were going to make the deadline for getting re-qualified and re-certified. This is the fastest way I know. And it provides the most incentive. Don't you agree?"  
  
McQueen's stomach had growled and he knew that a good real meal waited for him, only a mile away. "Yes." He had started walking.  
  
It had taken him over thirty minutes to walk a single mile, on a flat level road. Three times, his regrown lower leg had cramped up and Jake had been there instantly, his sure fingers massaging the muscle knots out.  
  
The next evening it had taken just under thirty minutes even with a single cramp. Twenty-five minutes the following evening with no cramps and then Jake had taken them five miles out in the morning and forced him to jog for short distances. Lunch was to be the reward for that grueling run, with another run in the afternoon in the opposite direction with dinner at the end.  
  
McQueen had come to enjoy the runs immensely after that. The Pacific Northwest area of the US had so much variation in its landscape. Once he could jog five miles twice a day, Jake had stopped running beside him and merely paced him somewhere out of sight. Jake had also taken them to different areas every couple of days. Roads became the exception rather than the rule quickly. The runs had gone through deserts, forests, rain forest, high altitude mountain slopes and seashores, all within an hour's flight from the medical complex. The uneven terrain that Jake insisted that he traverse had swiftly hardened his new limb and forced the rest of him into shape. Even when Jake had started loading him down with combat gear and extended the runs out to twenty miles, it hadn't dampened his enjoyment of the scenery. Rivers, forests, mountains, and deserts, he had taken them in stride by the end of the three weeks.  
  
A grin crossed McQueen's lips as he remembered what Jake had said the time he had protested the combat gear, not thinking he was up to it. "McQueen, the Roman Legions marched twenty miles a day minimum, carrying nearly ninety pounds of equipment on their backs. That included a shield on their left arm. Surely, you can do at least twenty miles in a day with only thirty pounds." He had never complained again, realizing that if he pushed, Jake was all too likely to increase his load to that ninety pounds.  
  
"You appear to have kept in shape."  
  
Jake's voice snapped McQueen from his remembrances. "I don't do twenty miles, but I get in ten, in combat gear. In fact the entire squadron does now. There's only so many times you can run through the corridors before someone is ready to shoot you."  
  
"And planet side?"  
  
"Usually too busy fighting. Most of the time we don't stay long enough to learn the terrain."  
  
Jake nodded. "Don't want to run into a mine field."  
  
"Or the enemy."  
  
"Definitely a downer."  
  
McQueen opened his closet and pulled out a fresh turtleneck.  
  
"What's with the turtleneck anyway?"  
  
Startled, McQueen glanced down at the shirt. "I started wearing them to hide the scars on my neck. I know they're mostly gone, but it's habit now and everyone expects me to wear them. It makes them, and me, uncomfortable when I don't."  
  
"It's become a talisman."  
  
"Sort of." McQueen pulled the turtleneck on.  
  
"Just like the black flight suit. I noticed that yours was the only black one."  
  
"It's my way of honoring the 127th." Grabbing a fresh flight suit, McQueen started dressing in it. "For a while there, I thought about getting rid of it, but I couldn't. Not even after losing my leg. It represents too much of what I am, who I am. I can't get rid of it."  
  
"I understand."  
  
McQueen glanced at Jake and saw that the man was telling the truth.  
  
"My jeans are pretty much the same thing. I could have used the family money to fund my schooling. I didn't. I worked my way through medical school, just like my grandfather. I went through a pair of jeans every month. And I still wear them, even now. I only wear slacks when it's an important social occasion."  
  
McQueen nodded, sitting down to pull on his boots. In minutes, he rose. "Ready for dinner?"  
  
"Most definitely. I'm starving."  
  
****  
  
Three hours later, McQueen rubbed his hand over his face, feeling his exhaustion. He hated the fact that his body still hadn't fully recovered from the ordeal of retrieving Silver. With a sigh, he picked up his coffee and started drinking it.  
  
"I think you need a stiffener in that coffee."  
  
McQueen gave Ross a quick smile, letting it fade. "I won't sleep if I do." He set the mug down.  
  
"Ty, with the amount of coffee you've drunk in the last three hours, I don't think a stiffener will make much of a difference." Ross pulled his hand from behind his back and poured a generous amount into his friend's coffee. "Rank hath its privileges."  
  
"I thought I was the only one left."  
  
"I came back."  
  
Slumping back into his chair, McQueen murmured, "Thanks, Glen."  
  
"I get the feeling that you didn't learn as much as you were hoping to." Ross sat down beside his best friend, adding some scotch to his own coffee.  
  
"True. But I think the squad and Dr. Connelly learned a lot."  
  
"Yes. Enough that the good doctor knows she needs a doctor experienced with vampires." Ross chuckled. "I still see that look in her eyes when she insisted that I get her a knowledgeable doctor. A touch of fear there, but she's willing to deal with the situation."  
  
"And she didn't run screaming from the room. Especially when Jake showed her what his fangs looked like, and how Nurse Temple reacted to his tasting her blood." McQueen shook his head. "I get the feeling there's more to the good nurse than meets the eye."  
  
"Well, she'll be a help to the doctor that Jake has in mind."  
  
"Glen, what are the odds that there's a doctor ready to send to us in a month once they've finished their Navy training?" McQueen frowned, feeling manipulated.  
  
"Under normal circumstances, not likely. But maybe they were planning to send one here already."  
  
"That scares me." McQueen took a deep drink. "The thought that they were anticipating Silver staying here. What did they know?"  
  
Ross wondered if he should mention the soul mates issue and decided that it was a matter for Silver to bring up. "Maybe they were just hopeful it would work out."  
  
"If she can get her soul mate to accept everything."  
  
"How long were you listening, Ty?"  
  
"Most of the conversation. Sorry. She and I have talked about it. I still have some thinking to do on the subject."  
  
"Ty, I never took you for an eavesdropper." Ross shook his head.  
  
"I just couldn't bring myself to interrupt and I wanted to know what she had to say. I won't do it again. I'm sorry, Glen."  
  
"I think you're saying it because you're expected to. But I'm not angry. A little shocked. I just never pictured you eavesdropping."  
  
"I listened because I needed to know, but knew I'd have trouble asking. Once I had the information, I was able to ask the follow-up questions."  
  
"Turning chicken in your old age?"  
  
"No. Just occasionally having trouble with the emotional and social questions. It's hard to know how to phrase the questions without giving offense sometimes."  
  
"Ty, neither Silver or I will take offense. Surely you know that?"  
  
"I know it up here," McQueen tapped his head, "but down here is a different story." He tapped his chest. "Ten years and I still have the feeling of missing things that appear obvious to everyone else."  
  
"Sometimes you are, Ty. But mostly I think it's your own sense of insecurity." Ross sighed and took a drink of his generously spiked coffee. "Ty, I've met a lot of Invitroes over the years. You have one of the most advanced sets of social skills. That's a hell of an achievement."  
  
"Doesn't seem like I've learned all that much. Look at the mess I created with Silver."  
  
"Ty, you're human. We all make mistakes. Especially in relationships."  
  
Stiffening his back, McQueen asked softly, "Have I damaged our friendship, Glen?"  
  
"No, Ty. Not in the least."  
  
Releasing his held breath, McQueen relaxed slightly. "I had to know for sure. I figured twenty-four hours would be long enough."  
  
"Long enough for me to kick myself for not letting you know sooner." Ross chuckled. "It's water under the bridge. Can't change the past."  
  
"And despite what people might think, I've no desire to change the past. Everything that's happened to me has made me who I am today." McQueen drank some more. "I'm tired, Glen but I don't really want to sleep alone tonight."  
  
"What about the squad?"  
  
McQueen shook his head. "No. They'll need the time to understand what they've learned. If I'm with them, they won't discuss it among themselves."  
  
"Probably right. What about-"  
  
"No, Glen."  
  
Ross laughed quietly. "Am I that transparent?"  
  
"It was a logical deduction. Thank you, but no."  
  
"Then how about you help me put some of Silver's belongings back in her quarters?"  
  
"I thought you sent them back to Earth."  
  
"All but a box. I went through them and sorted out some things I figured she would want. The rest I sent back. I kept her quarters off the available list." Ross stood up. "Help me move the stuff into her quarters and if neither of us makes it back to our rooms, well, we fell asleep putting stuff away."  
  
Grinning, McQueen stood up. "Lead on, oh devious one."  
  
It was two hours before the two men sank down onto the bed, side by side. They had to drag the box up from the storage unit that Ross had placed it in and the sergeant had taken nearly twenty minutes to find it. The sterile quarters now held a hint at the person they belonged to, and he had a better idea of Silver's personality as well as Glen's.  
  
The things that Ross had kept behind were a mixture of both practical and personal. Three uniforms, two pairs of boots, underclothes, socks; these all fell under the practical. The optical reader, several music discs, a handful of data discs, five books, some knick knacks, the dreaded bunny slippers, and pictures of Cassie comprised the personal and he wondered briefly why Ross had picked those particular items. Then he thought of his own meager belongings. What would Ross have kept for him under similar circumstances? The only personal items he could think of that might be kept for him were the pictures of the Angry Angels and his kids and possibly a couple of books. He realized that he needed to expand his personal possessions slightly.  
  
"Glen, did you think about packing my stuff when I was getting fitted for that damn fake leg?"  
  
"Briefly. But I decided that I'd wait and see. I'm glad I did."  
  
"So am I." McQueen sighed. "But I realize that I don't have a lot of personal stuff. A bunch of books and pictures."  
  
"But those are just as telling, Ty. Now, stop analyzing and relax." Ross shoved McQueen down onto the bed. "Get some sleep."  
  
"You should too." McQueen started to get up.  
  
"I will. But I'm not recovering from a harrowing ordeal, and injuries. I've been safe and sound for the last week." Ross held McQueen down. "Just go to sleep like a good Marine, hm? You know, instantly asleep, no matter the surroundings."  
  
"Wish."  
  
"Give it a try."  
  
"Ok. But don't expect it to work."  
  
A grin spread across Ross' face as fifteen minutes later McQueen softly snored. He gently removed McQueen's boots, spread a blanket over the sleeping man, turned the lights down low, and let himself out, carefully shutting and locking the hatch behind him. He figured that sleeping in Silver's quarters would do the trick for McQueen.  
  
****  
  
McQueen woke to the softly insistent voice of his best friend. "Come on, McQueen. I have a situation here. I really need your help."  
  
"What is it?" McQueen rolled over onto his side and sat up, realizing that he was in Silver's quarters. Ross, wisely, stood at the foot of the bed.  
  
"We have an unauthorized visitor. I think you better go down to ISSCV Landing Bay 2."  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"Just go." Ross frowned. "I really want you to deal with this first."  
  
Pulling on the boots he didn't remember taking off, McQueen asked, "Who is it, Glen?"  
  
"I'm not sure, but I have a guess. Just please think before speaking."  
  
"Now you have me really worried." McQueen stood up.  
  
"Look, Ty, everything in me says you need to talk to our visitor first. Ok?"  
  
McQueen nodded. "All right. What time is it?"  
  
"One in the morning."  
  
"Ok. I'm on my way."  
  
"I think I'll wait right here."  
  
McQueen forced himself not to think about the situation until he arrived at the landing bay. As he strode into the bay, he saw a MP sergeant outside the nearest briefing room. "I take it our visitor' is in there?"  
  
"Yes, colonel. Tired, hungry and scared. But the commodore wanted to wait before getting her some food." The MP stepped aside. "He said you would be taking care of her, sir."  
  
A bad feeling swept through McQueen and he nodded, suddenly unable to talk.  
  
The MP opened the door.  
  
McQueen stepped through and froze just past the door. He heard the MP close the door, but his eyes were glued to the huddled form in the nearest seat. Blonde hair coiled about the thin shoulders, which he saw were shaking slightly.  
  
"Ty, McQueen, Colonel, I'm in big trouble, aren't I?" The hazel eyes stared up at him, scared.  
  
"I'm afraid so, Cassie."  
  
"Is Mom here?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is she alive?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Thank God. After her stuff arrived, everyone started acting weird. I mean I know she never sent her stuff home before, but no one would talk to me. They all said Mom was fine."  
  
"No one told you what was going on?" McQueen walked over and crouched down, resting his hand on a lean thigh.  
  
"No one. Then Uncle Jake took a call in the middle of the night and just left. I figured something else was wrong. I have to talk to Mom, Colonel. I have to. It's very important."  
  
"You can't right now."  
  
"What's wrong? Is it because of Mom that Uncle Jake left so fast?"  
  
"Yes. Your mother is very ill right now."  
  
"Is she going to die?"  
  
McQueen shook his head. "I don't think so. Cassie, why did you come here?"  
  
"I have to talk to her."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Me." Cassie started shaking harder. "I can't explain it. I just know I have to talk to her."  
  
"All right. We'll see what we can do in the morning. I'll do what I can do to smooth things over. How about we go to your mother's quarters?"  
  
"She still has quarters here?"  
  
"Yes. The commodore kept them available."  
  
"I'm glad. Where is she, Colonel?"  
  
"Sickbay. And Cassie, I thought we decided that you would call me Ty. After all, you did spend a lot of time with me. Both while I was in the tank and after."  
  
"But you're all better now. And back in the military."  
  
"When we're alone, call me Ty. Ok?"  
  
"Ok, Ty." Cassie hesitated, and then flung her arms around McQueen's neck. "I'm scared, Ty. I don't understand what's happened to Mom."  
  
"I'll try to explain it to you. In her quarters."  
  
"What about the nice man outside?"  
  
"I don't think he'll mind. I'll be taking responsibility for you."  
  
"Uh, oh, that doesn't sound good."  
  
"That means if you get into any mischief on board, I have to answer for it. So-"  
  
"I'll be good, I promise." Cassie crossed her heart.  
  
"Good girl. Now, the MP said you were hungry."  
  
"Yes. I forgot to bring something to eat and I didn't eat breakfast."  
  
"Let's go get Commodore Ross and then we'll get you something to eat." McQueen stood up and held out his hand.  
  
As she took his hand, Cassie looked up at McQueen, though she did not have far to look. "Did she go on a bad mission?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Why? She said she never wanted to go on another one." Cassie bit her lip.  
  
McQueen swallowed, knowing he would have to tell Cassie a version of the truth. "I made a mistake and hurt your mother, emotionally. She took the mission before I realized what an idiot I was. When I could, I went to bring her back. But she was badly injured."  
  
"Are you sorry?" Both her eyes and voice were sharp.  
  
"Very, very sorry. And we talked it over."  
  
"Did you kiss and make up?"  
  
The look in Cassie's eyes made McQueen redden. "Well, yes."  
  
"Good."  
  
McQueen opened the door. "Sergeant, I'll be taking responsibility for Ms. Silver here."  
  
"Any relation to the colonel?"  
  
"Her daughter."  
  
"Ah. That explains it." The sergeant looked at Cassie. "I don't ever want to catch you hitching an unauthorized ride, miss. Ever. Go through channels."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
McQueen hid a grin, suspecting that the only reason Cassie was being nice had to do with her being exhausted and hungry. Although he suspected that even Silver listened to sergeants. "I'm taking her to get something to eat and then some sleep."  
  
"Is the colonel all right, sir?"  
  
Word had spread. "Yes, sergeant. She is, now."  
  
The sergeant nodded. "Very well, sir. Try to get some sleep."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
McQueen led Cassie through the corridors to her mother's quarters. The entire way she remained quiet, but he saw how she studied everything. He opened the hatch. "In here."  
  
"McQueen?" came Ross' tired voice.  
  
"Yes, sir." As Ross stood up from the desk, McQueen said, "Sir, may I introduce Cassie Silver? Cassie, this is Commodore Glen Ross."  
  
Cassie held out her hand. "Hi. Sorry about how I got here. Mom likes you."  
  
"And I like her." Ross shook her hand. "Now, about you're being here."  
  
"I'm sorry, but I really have to talk to my mom. It's really important."  
  
"Important enough to risk juvenile jail?"  
  
McQueen knew that Ross wouldn't send Cassie to jail.  
  
"Yes, sir." She faced Ross squarely.  
  
"All right. You can see her in the morning. No one, not even your uncle, is seeing her tonight."  
  
"Sir, she needs to eat."  
  
"Let's go."  
  
"Where?" Cassie looked from one to the other, wondering what adventures she was about to witness.  
  
"Officers' Mess," the two men said together, and then laughed.  
  
While Cassie devoured one of Ross' sandwiches and the two men split another, McQueen wondered what could be so important that Cassie had come all the way out here to talk to her mother. He traded concerned looks with Ross.  
  
"Cassie, can you tell me what is so important?"  
  
"Ty, I don't know if I can." She gazed over at him. "Do you know about Mom?"  
  
"I know she's a vampire."  
  
Cassie sighed in relief. "I wasn't sure I could explain it. I've never had to. Do you know when the change comes over us?"  
  
"Puberty." McQueen froze, the sandwich half way to his mouth. "Damn. Not now." He put the sandwich down.  
  
"I... I need Mom." She stared at the table.  
  
Pushing the plate away, McQueen swore. "Damn, damn, damn. That's not all you need. Bloody hell, Cassie, this is a ship of war. Not a floating hotel. You should have stayed home."  
  
"I need Mom. I don't know why, but I need her. It's not supposed to be like this. Any other vampire should be able to take care of me, but all I know is I need her, not them."  
  
Hand over his face, Ross groaned. "Great. That's all I need. It's not bad enough that I have a vampire recovering from near fatal injuries who inflicted near fatal injuries on another vampire. Now I have a vampire child coming into her own to contend with. Why me?"  
  
"Glen-" McQueen shook his head, realizing the damage was done.  
  
"Near fatal?" Cassie's voice was soft.  
  
Ross looked apologetic. "Shit. That's not how you should have found out. Sorry, Cassie, but your mother was seriously injured. We thought she was healing. Then she attacked this Griffon fellow, nearly killing him and herself in the process. Griffon had McQueen send a message out and your uncle Jake responded with eight others. They say she's going to be all right now."  
  
"Cassie, you don't need to worry. She's going to be fine and you can see her in the morning." With a soft smile, McQueen patted her hand. "Now, finish that sandwich so I can put you to bed."  
  
"Will you stay with me? I don't want to be alone."  
  
McQueen nodded. "I know the feeling."  
  
They finished eating in silence.  
  
Ross escorted the two to Silver's quarters. "Do you need a wake up call, Ty?"  
  
"No. I'll wake at my usual time, I think."  
  
"0530."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Breakfast at 0600?"  
  
"Sounds good."  
  
"Going to introduce her to the squad?"  
  
McQueen grinned. "Yes."  
  
"I'd love to see their faces." Ross chuckled. "Go on, Ty. Get that child to bed. We don't want to piss Silver off."  
  
"She's going to be mad enough as it is without our keeping her daughter from getting any sleep." McQueen shook his head, smiling. "Good night, sir."  
  
"Good night, sir," echoed Cassie.  
  
"Good night, Ty, Cassie."  
  
McQueen opened the hatch. "Come in, Cassie. These are your mother's quarters."  
  
For the next several minutes, McQueen watched Cassie inspect the room. She found the bathroom, used it, came out, checked out the closet and uniforms, and then moved over to the pictures.  
  
"Look, she has pictures of me." In her excitement, Cassie spun around. As she spun, she tripped and McQueen caught her. Putting her back on her feet, he asked, "Why wouldn't she have pictures of you, Cassie? You're her daughter."  
  
"I never see her taking any. I always thought she didn't want them."  
  
"She probably has other family members take the pictures and send them to her."  
  
"Must be." she sighed, sitting on the bed, "Where are you going to sleep?"  
  
"The floor."  
  
"There's plenty of room here." She patted the bed.  
  
"It wouldn't be right, Cassie. Besides, I'm a bad sleeper. I move around a lot and I have nightmares."  
  
"I know."  
  
McQueen snapped his head around. "What? How do you-"  
  
"I watched the monitors sometimes when I had trouble sleeping. I heard the nurses talking. Mom had warned them that you would probably have nightmares and gave them some ideas of how to help you."  
  
"That explains it. I had wondered." McQueen sat on the bed beside Cassie.  
  
"Ty, please. You're the closest thing I have to Mom right now."  
  
With a heavy sigh, McQueen nodded. "Don't say I didn't warn you."  
  
Despite his misgivings, she fell asleep almost instantly after he wrapped his arms around her. It took a little longer, but he finally slept, too.  
  
****  
  
Warmth on his throat woke McQueen and he knew it was wrong. Opening his eyes, he saw Cassie above him, her eyes closed as she breathed in his scent.  
  
"No!" He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her up from his body. McQueen kept his eyes on her, seeing how she struggled to control herself, moving away from him toward the wall. "Cassie, that was a really bad idea."  
  
"I don't know what happened. I woke up and you smelled so good. I had to get closer. I'm sorry." Cassie knelt on the bed, arms wrapped around herself.  
  
McQueen slid off the bed and backed away, aware that even an immature vampire would be more than he could handle. "I think I better find Jake. He should know what to do."  
  
"No, please. Not Uncle Jake. He's part of the reason I'm here. He still thinks I'm a little girl. He's always acting like I'm six years old. I'm thirteen, dammit." Cassie's voice hardened. "I need to get to Mom, and maybe Griffon. He taught Mom."  
  
McQueen risked a glance at his timepiece. 0535. "Can you keep yourself under control for two and a half hours? Seriously under control. Only a handful of people know about vampires. I don't want more rumors spreading."  
  
For a long minute, she rocked back and forth, silent. "I think so. Yes, I can. I can keep control. I will not lose control again."  
  
McQueen stood in thought. If she had answered yes immediately, he would have had grave doubts. But she had taken time to evaluate herself before uttering her certainty. "All right. But if you start to have trouble, tell me. Immediately. I can't risk your losing control among the crew."  
  
"I will tell you. I promise." she crossed her heart. "I know I'm being a bother, but everything in me says I have to see Mom."  
  
McQueen straightened his back and stared down at her. "All right. I want you to stay here while I go to my quarters and change. I'll try to find something clean for you to wear. No one is to come in here, not even the commodore. If he asks, tell him I said so. He'll listen. All right?"  
  
"Mm hm. No one comes in until you come back. Passwords?"  
  
A grin and McQueen said, "Frodo, Samwise."  
  
Cassie grinned back. "Got it."  
  
McQueen locked the hatch behind him and strode to his quarters. He showered quickly and slipped into a clean flight suit. All the while he wondered where to find Cassie something to wear. Then he realized that Cassie was about 'Phousse's height and build. Maybe he could get some clothes from her. But he would have to hurry if he was going to meet the commodore in fifteen minutes.  
  
Despite the crowds in the corridors, McQueen made it to the 58th's barracks in three minutes. There he found the squad getting dressed. "Planning on meeting me for breakfast?"  
  
"Sir, we decided that we needed to resume most of our schedule," explained Vansen.  
  
"It's all right. I'm meeting the commodore at 0600 and you are welcome to join us. Someone I want you to meet will be there. Which is part of why I'm here. 'Phousse, do you have a spare set of clothes? My guest forgot to bring a change of clothes and she's about your size."  
  
"Sure, colonel. Just a sec." Clamping down on her curiosity, 'Phousse rummaged through her footlocker. "Everything?"  
  
"Not quite. Just a shirt."  
  
"But she'll need-"  
  
McQueen shook his head. "No, she doesn't. Trust me. I know what I'm talking about."  
  
"Ok."  
  
Two minutes later, McQueen was headed for Silver's quarters, prizes in hand. He rapped on the door. "Frodo."  
  
"Samwise." The hatch opened.  
  
He thrust the clothes in. "Hurry and get dressed. We're going to be late."  
  
"I've already showered. I'll be right out."  
  
Leaning against the bulkhead, McQueen slowly shook his head. Common sense indeed. Well, she couldn't have stowed away carrying duffel, but she'd used the time he had been gone well.  
  
The door opened two minutes later. "Ready." She was running her fingers through her hair.  
  
"You'll never get it untangled that way." From a pocket, McQueen pulled a comb. "Use this."  
  
Trotting behind him through the corridors, Cassie used the comb as best she could. "Why do you carry a comb? It's not like you need one."  
  
The reference to his not quite buzz cut made McQueen grin. "Like the boy scouts always say, be prepared. You'd be surprised at what I carry around with me, even in my combat gear." He thrust his hand between elevator doors. "Come on."  
  
Cassie used the limited space and time in the elevator to drag the comb through her hair ruthlessly.  
  
"You can't do it that way, kid." A female Navy lieutenant frowned at Cassie. "Give me the comb. You really need someone else to do this part for you. Turn around."  
  
With swift, sure strokes, the lieutenant started clearing the tangles.  
  
"This is our stop," announced McQueen.  
  
The lieutenant followed them out. "I have a couple of minutes before I have to arrive. Let me finish here. Do you know how to braid your hair?"  
  
"No. I've been trying, but I just don't have the knack yet." Cassie sighed.  
  
"All right. I'll braid it quickly. You have a ponytail holder?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good."  
  
Impatient, McQueen forced himself to stand still. He realized that Cassie needed to look presentable.  
  
The lieutenant concentrated and soon had Cassie's hair in a simple braid. Tying it off, she said, "Colonel, I know you need to get her somewhere. But be aware that her hair will need to be re-braided later. Can you do it?"  
  
McQueen shook his head. "Not a skill I acquired."  
  
"Can you make a rope?"  
  
The light went off in his mind. "Got it. Thank you, Lieutenant-"  
  
"Sommers, sir. Just not as tight as a rope and you'll do fine. There, presentable."  
  
McQueen nodded his dismissal and put his hand on Cassie's back, gently propelling her along in the desired direction. Three minutes late already, he thought to himself.  
  
They entered the Officers' Mess and McQueen forced himself to ignore the instant quiet and looks that were shot his way. He led Cassie to the buffet and allowed her to pick out a suitable breakfast while getting himself a plateful of food. Then he maneuvered over to where Ross sat, already eating.  
  
"Sorry about being late. Forgot she needed a change of clothes."  
  
"Where'd you get them?"  
  
"'Phousse."  
  
Ross nodded and returned to his food.  
  
A moment later, the members of the squad entered the mess. They stopped at the table first, their eyes fixed on Cassie. "Sir?" Vansen stood closest to McQueen.  
  
"Are you Cassie?" asked Hawkes.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How did you figure it out?" demanded West.  
  
"Just how many thirteen year old girls would the colonel be interested in?"  
  
'Phousse smiled. "He's right. Silver's daughter is the only one. Nice to meet you, Cassie, I'm 'Phousse. The one that asked you is Hawkes. He's West," she said pointing. "And the one still staring shell shocked is Vansen."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Go get your food," McQueen ordered, concealing a smile. As the squad left, McQueen said, "You got your wish, sir."  
  
"I need to be careful what I say around you, McQueen." Ross laughed. Sobering, he said, "I called Sickbay. They still say 0800."  
  
"Good. I do not need a delay." McQueen gave Cassie a warning look. She nodded back, indicating that she wouldn't be speaking of their earlier incident. "Do you mind if Cassie and I talk to Silver alone?"  
  
Ross shook his head. "No. As much as I would like to be there, I have to get back to that damned inventory."  
  
The squad returned with full plates even as Ross was finishing his breakfast. Ross waited until everyone had sat down and started eating before saying, "McQueen, contact me once you've talked to Silver. I want to know how she's doing."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Ross stood up, his empty plate and coffee mug in his hands. "5-8, you did a good job getting Silver out of a bad situation. Enjoy the next three days. They may be the last down days you get for a while."  
  
Groans greeted his words. With a smile, Ross walked away to deposit his dirty plate and get a coffee refill before heading for his office.  
  
McQueen ate a couple of bites, waiting for the squads' curiosity to overcome their caution.  
  
"So, Cassie, why are you here?" Hawkes immediately stuffed a fork of SOS into his mouth.  
  
"I have to talk to Mom. It's really important." Cassie pushed her scrambled eggs around. She sat silent for a moment, and then started talking. "I knew something had happened to Mom. She's never sent her stuff home before. And then no one would talk to me about why she did it. For the last week, I've had this feeling that I really need to talk to Mom. Then Uncle Jake said he had to get to the Saratoga, that Mom needed him. So, I stowed away on a transport out of Edwards. The MPs found me when we arrived. They checked my ID and contacted the commodore, I guess. All I know is then the colonel came down and brought me back to Mom's quarters. I spent the night there."  
  
"So, what do you have to talk to her about?" asked Vansen.  
  
"It's... ah, well..."  
  
"She's following in her mother's footsteps, as it were," explained McQueen. "When she gets back to Earth, she'll be forming her own close circle."  
  
McQueen saw the understanding dawning in his kids' eyes. To their credit, none of them backed off or looked at Cassie strangely.  
  
"Must be pretty weird." Hawkes shoveled in some more food.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Did you see Paul?" 'Phousse licked her lips nervously.  
  
"You got his letters? The ones he sent with Griffon?" Cassie glanced around at them all.  
  
McQueen nodded. "Yes. I've already sent back a reply." He ignored the incredulous looks from his kids. "I mailed it before I could talk myself out of it."  
  
"No one messes with the US Mail," grinned Cassie. "Not even the AIs."  
  
Cassie pushed her plate away and took a drink of her orange juice. "Paul's doing fine. He's walking, well, shuffling around and working hard at the PT Uncle Jake throws at him."  
  
"PT?" Vansen looked confused.  
  
"Physical therapy." West frowned. "Hope your uncle is better than the doctors here."  
  
Remembering his own PT sessions, McQueen said, "He tailors them for each individual patient. What works for one person may not work for another. I'm sure he's pushing Paul to his limits without endangering Paul or risking a setback. But he works his patients hard."  
  
Cassie grinned. "I remember what you looked like coming in from the first run. Or rather walk. Best mile you ever walked, right?"  
  
Sitting back, McQueen nodded. "A car took us down the road one mile and dropped us off. It was nearly dinnertime. He told me that I could eat dinner after I managed to walk back to the complex on my own two feet, and that he would be there every step of the way. It took me over a half hour to make the trip. I was exhausted, but proud of myself. After all, the previous day, I had only walked for ten minutes at a stretch, and I had just walked a mile, admittedly with lots of stops and a lot of pain. The new leg muscles kept cramping up. But Jake was there, immediately working on the spasms, getting me back on my feet."  
  
"And you walked to dinner that night and every night after." Cassie let her grin fade. "Paul just started going to dinner with us on his own feet. He's damn proud of the fact that he's able to walk at all."  
  
"What about the other POWs?"  
  
Cassie sighed. "Well, they're still going through the tank cycle. After all, they weren't started immediately on their arrival on Earth. There was a bit more work to be done on them before they could start. Both Paul and the colonel were jump started."  
  
"Because of your Mom's interest in them?" asked West.  
  
"Yes. Grandfather started them both because Mom asked him to. She wanted them both on their feet as soon as possible." Cassie looked at McQueen. "You because she likes you and Paul because he was important to you."  
  
"I know."  
  
Cassie gave him a sad smile. "I like you both." She looked over at the squad members. "So you all know about Mom?"  
  
Nods all around.  
  
"Good. She needs support out here. Ever since I heard about the 1-10 I've been worried for her. I didn't want anything to happen to her. Not that way. I know it's tough with only three."  
  
McQueen reached over and squeezed Cassie's hand. "She's not alone, Cassie. She has me, Russell, Finch and St. John. I've met a few others who know what she is and might be willing to serve."  
  
Cassie's eyes lit up. "That would be great."  
  
"Now, finish your food. You'll need your strength."  
  
With a sigh, Cassie started picking at her food.  
  
"Eat, young lady. I know the colonel and you won't get to see your mom unless you've cleaned your plate." Shane gave the girl a mock frown.  
  
"So Paul, is he in good spirits?" asked 'Phousse.  
  
"Reasonably good. It's a lot of hard work that he's doing. He watches your letters every night. Jennie and I help him try to write mock letters so that he regains mobility in his hands. He does better on a keyboard, but he needs to be able to use a pen. There's usually some sign of progress every day. A little less pain, a little more movement." Cassie took a big bite of her scrambled eggs.  
  
"His letters always sound so upbeat. I just can't help wondering what he's not telling us." 'Phousse sighed, and sipped her coffee.  
  
Cassie finished her bite before speaking. "Probably how exhausted the PT makes him. He sleeps a lot, but it's good for him. He's working a body that's forgotten most of what it used to do. He gets frustrated, it's only normal, but he works through it and most nights he's in a good mood when he goes to bed. Not very many nightmares."  
  
"Good." 'Phousse nodded. "I know he used to have bad nights about what that damn Elroy did to him."  
  
"He said that both the colonel and Adam helped him deal with it. Getting him to talk about himself has been tough, but every so often, Jennie and I break through."  
  
"Sure you want to be a soldier? Sounds like the medical profession is your field." McQueen pushed his empty plate away and cradled his coffee in his hands.  
  
"I enjoy it when I'm helping someone like you or Paul. But I have no interest in helping the other POWs. Being in the Silver family, you learn medical jargon and how to handle emergencies, not just basic first aid. I've been first on the scene of a bad accident and literally held a man's life in my hands. I kept him alive because of what I know. But I'm not cut out to be a doctor." Cassie shook her head. "No, when Griffon and Mom take me out into the wilderness and we spend three days doing training exercises or I tackle the flight sims at Edwards or I practice on the firing range, that's when I feel truly alive."  
  
"Definitely a soldier."  
  
Cassie nodded at McQueen. "Yes."  
  
"How can you know at such a young age?" Shane gave Cassie a hard look.  
  
"I just do. Mom knew, too. So did Uncle Jake. He combined his love of the outdoors with the medical field. Physical therapy was his chosen field from the age of fourteen."  
  
"What about your father?"  
  
"He's an artist." Cassie grinned. "Drives Grandfather nuts sometimes. But Father is good, really good, and he does murals in the complex for a nominal fee. He really doesn't need to paint, but he loves to. He doesn't understand my obsession with the military, but he's willing to let me do it."  
  
"That's better than most fathers." West sighed, thinking how his own parents had been shocked to hear he had joined the Marines.  
  
"I think it has to do with the fact that his own father tried to force him into a career in accounting. To this day, he hates having to deal with money. Grandfather found him a reliable accountant who makes sure Father has money whenever he wants it."  
  
"What about college? Are you going?" asked Hawkes. "I'm trying to get the various classes I can out here so I can go when I return to Earth."  
  
"Mom has already said that I have to go to college before I can join the military. But I'll probably do like Mom did and have my first two years done before I finish high school." Cassie sighed. "So I'll be twenty before I enter the military."  
  
"What are you going to major in?" West leaned forward.  
  
"Well, it won't be English Lit," grinned Cassie, giving McQueen a quick glance. "I'm not sure yet, probably computers or electronics. Now, if they had courses in survival and weapons, I'd breeze through."  
  
"You think so?" McQueen raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I know so. I've been training at Edwards for two years now."  
  
"Yeah, but they're Air Force instructors," drawled Hawkes while the rest of the squad grinned.  
  
"Sgt. Kehr is a Marine and he's watched over my training," Cassie snapped back.  
  
Hawkes grinned. "Loyalty is good."  
  
Realizing Hawkes had been baiting her, Cassie cooled down. She shook her head. "I should know better. But..."  
  
"You're also a teenager with all that implies," Shane remarked. "Just try to keep your temper and you'll do fine. So how long are you staying with us?"  
  
"I don't know. It'll depend on what Mom says. And other things." Cassie finished the last of her food. "What are we doing until 0800, colonel?"  
  
"Why don't you stay with the squad until it's nearly time. I'll meet you in the Observation Lounge." McQueen gave Shane a look. "Do not take her to the Tun. She's too young."  
  
"Can we show her the other so-called sights?" asked West.  
  
"Anywhere she is legally allowed to go." McQueen rose. He gave Cassie a quick look. "You'll be ok?"  
  
"Yes, sir. I'll be fine."  
  
"Then I'll see you in an hour." 


	11. Blood and Souls, Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Warning: Sex, language.  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter 11  
  
At 0800, McQueen stood impatiently at the nurses' station, Cassie at his side.  
  
Dr. Connelly appeared from her office. "Colonel." She gave the young woman at his side a glance.  
  
"Dr. Connelly. This is Cassie Silver. She arrived last night."  
  
"Nice to meet you, Cassie."  
  
"You, too, doctor."  
  
Connelly smiled. "Shall we see if we can gain access to my patient?"  
  
"Yes, doctor." McQueen motioned for Connelly to precede him.  
  
Jake stepped out of Silver's room. "Cassie? What are you doing here?"  
  
"Well, that answers one question," murmured Connelly.  
  
"Hi, Uncle Jake."  
  
To her credit, Cassie didn't try to hide behind McQueen. Appreciating that, McQueen placed his hand on her lower back to show his support. She flashed him a quick grin before facing her uncle. "I know I shouldn't be here, but I really need to talk to Mom."  
  
"She's in no shape to deal with your childish pranks," growled Jake.  
  
"No pranks, Jake. And Silver will definitely want to see Cassie." McQueen pushed Cassie toward the room.  
  
"I'll be the judge of that." Jake stiffened. "Cassie's my niece."  
  
"And from what I've heard, you're treating her like a child. She's a teenager, Jake, and she really needs to talk to her mother." McQueen pushed past Jake, letting Cassie open the door. He avoided the grab Jake made for his arm.  
  
"Stop interfering, McQueen. You're not a part of this family."  
  
"But Silver's a part of mine." McQueen stood inside the room, holding the door open for the doctor.  
  
Dr. Connelly brushed past the stunned Jake.  
  
Two beds now occupied the room. Silver stretched out on one, eyes closed, her bad shoulder lightly bandaged, while Griffon had the upper portion of his bed up so he could sit up, reading. Machines were still missing from the room.  
  
Griffon looked up from the book and froze. After a second, he said, "Cassie?"  
  
"Hi, Grif. I hear Mom hurt you pretty bad."  
  
"Not as bad as I'm going to tan your hide if you don't have a damned good reason for being here." Silver's voice was stronger than the last time McQueen had heard it, but still not normal. She opened her eyes and the look she gave both McQueen and Cassie boded ill if she was not satisfied with their answers. "Come here, Cassie."  
  
Silently, Cassie approached her mother on the left side, a tremulous smile on her lips. Once beside the bed, she rested her hand on her mother's arm. "Mom, I know I shouldn't be here, but I had to come."  
  
Silver reached up and touched her daughter's cheek. "Damn, Cassie. I can see you have my bad timing. McQueen, get Finch and the others. Have them go to my quarters. Tell them what's up. Cassie'll be joining them there in a few minutes."  
  
"Yes, Silver."  
  
As McQueen spun on his heel, Silver looked at Griffon. "Grif, what kind of shape are you in?"  
  
"Depends on what you want me to do?"  
  
"Cassie needs some teaching."  
  
"Damnation." Griffon sighed, closing his eyes. With another sigh, he looked over at Silver and Cassie. "All right. I can do it." Griffon forced himself to sit up fully.  
  
Dr. Connelly glared about the room. "Just a minute. I'm the doctor here and I will decide who is ready for getting out of bed."  
  
Silver chuckled. "Doctor, I'm going to assume you have some idea of what we are."  
  
"Damn right, I do. And I've figured out what's with your daughter. But-"  
  
"But, doctor, she needs instruction now. She's already craving blood. In fact..." Silver stared at her daughter, who refused to meet her eyes. "Cassie, how long have you been aboard?"  
  
"Since a little after midnight. The colonel stayed with me in your quarters."  
  
"Did you-"  
  
"No. But I was drawn to him. It's the closest I've come to losing control."  
  
"Damn." Silver pulled Cassie down onto her chest, hugging her tightly, taking comfort herself from Cassie's presence. "Doctor, she needs Griffon now, before she loses control and attacks someone. Griffon will be able to control her. In fact, he shouldn't need to get very active at all. Not with Finch and the others there."  
  
Griffon snorted. "Right. I remember how you were." He looked at Connelly. "But Silver's right. I'm far enough removed as a relative that it is not incest, and the first time should be with a vampire Cassie feels comfortable having around. I'm the only choice."  
  
"Doctor, go ahead and check Griffon out. I'm sure you'll find that he's remarkably healed, considering what I did to him." Silver tugged on Cassie and smiled down at her daughter as Cassie climbed onto the bed with her. "You stay here until we have everything settled."  
  
Connelly stood irresolute for a few seconds, and then walked over to Griffon.  
  
"Now, Cassie, why did you come here?"  
  
"I had to come. Everything told me to come to you, Mom. And when Uncle Jake took off, well, no one was left in the family for me to go to. Grandfather and Nana had left for that symposium in Germany. Uncle Peter is somewhere in the Orient, Uncle Patrick is in Scotland, and Uncle Jake was here. And the only place I had permission to go to was Edwards. A transport was headed here with supplies. I snuck on and hid. The MPs found me when the transport was being unloaded." Cassie hugged her mother. "I'm sorry if I caused a lot of trouble, but I knew I had to come to you."  
  
"You did the right thing." Silver kissed her daughter's forehead. "Jake?"  
  
Jake was slowly shaking his head. "Dammit, it's bad timing. How is she going to get back home?"  
  
"You'll just have to delay your departure for a day. I'm sure the others won't mind."  
  
"One of them could deal with Cassie."  
  
"Jake! Are you deliberately trying to anger me? Because if you are, you're doing a helluva job."  
  
"No, of course not, Lysa. I'm just trying to point out that there are alternatives to Griffon teaching Cassie." Jake folded his arms.  
  
"She doesn't know them or trust them. She knows and trusts Griffon. And Jake, shut the hell up or I'm going to get up and shut you up myself. And you know I can. Even in the shape I'm in, I can take you down."  
  
Jake raised his hands and backed up. "Fine, Lysa, whatever you say. It's out of my hands."  
  
"Fine."  
  
McQueen returned. "They're alerted and on their way."  
  
"Good. Take Cassie there please." Cassie slid off the bed. "Griffon will be there in a few minutes. As soon as Dr. Connelly is satisfied with his condition." Silver inwardly smiled as the doctor grimaced from where she stood beside Griffon.  
  
"All right. He may go. But I want him back here in this bed afterwards." Dr. Connelly turned toward Silver. "And you are staying where you are."  
  
With a nod, Silver said, "I had no plans to the contrary, doctor. My shoulder needs to be reset, among other things."  
  
Connelly strode over to Silver's bed. "Let's take a look."  
  
"McQueen, can you take them both?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
McQueen helped Griffon onto his feet. "Cassie, can you support his other side?"  
  
"Sure." Cassie moved under Griffon's left arm as McQueen took Griffon's right side.  
  
Connelly followed the three out. "Colonel, stay away for a couple of hours. I have work to do."  
  
"Yes, doctor."  
  
McQueen occupied himself for three hours by finishing up the mission report. He dropped it off at Ross' office, giving his friend a quick update. Since he hadn't heard from Griffon, he didn't stop by Silver's quarters, not wanting to interfere.  
  
He hesitated outside Silver's Sickbay room, glancing through the now clear door windows. Shoulder in a cast, Silver appeared to be alone. Slowly he slipped through the swinging doors.  
  
"Morning, Ty."  
  
"Morning, Lysa. How are you doing?"  
  
"A lot better than yesterday. Sorry for the scare." Silver raised the upper portion of the bed.  
  
"What happened?" McQueen pulled the chair over beside her bed.  
  
"The medication was only taking the edge off the pain when you left. I had a lot of trouble sleeping and knew better than to take a sedative. I managed a few dozes. When Griffon came by, my control was shot."  
  
"What set you off?"  
  
"He said something, I don't remember what. It ticked me off, whatever it was." Silver shook her head, remembering all too well Griffon's remark. 'God, Lysa, I spent all night dreaming about McQueen. How the hell could you not bind him?' Her tenuous control had snapped and she remembered the shocked look on Griffon's face when she had lunged out of the bed, snarling, 'Keep away from him, bastard!' After that, her memory was a blank, but she knew what she had done.  
  
The face before him a frown, McQueen knew she could remember something, but he decided that it'd be better not to press. "Did you get to read Paul's letter?"  
  
"Yes. He is a bright young man." Silver laughed softly. "He told me to keep an eye on you and the others. Thanked me again for rescuing him and the others. He also wanted to know why he hadn't heard from Adam for a while." She sighed. "Plus he wondered how my last mission had gone. He wanted to know how you were really doing, since your letters to him were so short. He was certain something was wrong."  
  
"He should like the letter he gets then. I recorded, saved, and packaged it before I could back out of it. I mailed it right before breakfast yesterday." McQueen almost hesitated before asking, "Are you going to tell him about Adam?"  
  
"I don't think that's my job."  
  
McQueen sighed, but met her gaze steadily. "You're right. I'll send him another letter tomorrow. Postmaster will probably keel over in shock. Two personal letters from me in three days." That got him the chuckle he had been hoping for. He could still see the shadow of pain in her eyes. "Do you need medicine?"  
  
Shaking her head, Silver took a deep breath. "It's pain of the soul. Not too many doctors can heal that."  
  
"No." McQueen tried to find a new topic that might cheer her up. "Did you know what Griffon had in mind to teach me?"  
  
"Not exactly. All he said was he was going to take you to a new level."  
  
"Understatement of the year." McQueen ran his fingers through his hair. "He actually talked me into allowing him to bind me to the bed."  
  
She sighed. "Damn. I was hoping to be the one to introduce you to that. I wanted to teach you about letting go of the control."  
  
Staring at his hands, he barely whispered. "He called me wanton. Said it was a beautiful sight."  
  
"Ty, you're delicious fully dressed. Naked you're a feast."  
  
He glanced up wondering if she was teasing him. Her eyes were completely serious.  
  
Her voice had a husky quality to it when she continued speaking. "Ty, even naked and bleeding you are gorgeous to me. I love looking at you, even during your worst moments." She sighed, toying with her hair. "I would have loved to have seen you, though."  
  
"Really?" His voice still low, McQueen thought frantically, wondering if he dared-.  
  
"Can you doubt it, Ty?" Silver grimaced as she attempted to reach out to him. "Get up here where I can reach you, Ty."  
  
He sat on the bed. As her hand rested on his thigh, he felt his body respond to the memories of both her and Griffon. "It's not that I exactly doubt you. I've never had anyone so blatantly telling me how much they want me." He covered her hand with his own.  
  
"Ty, I've wanted you since I first set eyes on you at Loxley, all those years ago. I actually watched you go out to your Hammerhead one morning. And when the chance came to actually work with you, how the hell could I not finagle my way into the 5-8?"  
  
The motion of her thumb rubbing the inside of his thigh made McQueen's pulse race. "Loxley, hm?"  
  
"Oh, yes. You walked in with the rest of the 127th and immediately sat down at the bar, alone. It was all I could do to drag my eyes off you and ask my friend who the hell you were. I used my friend shamelessly in order to keep tabs on you whenever you were on Earth. Including after losing your leg. And in space I used other friends to keep me informed on you." Silver shifted her hand slightly and hid her smile when he inhaled sharply. The struggle in his eyes as he tried to decide whether to move closer, giving her better access, or to scoot back a few inches made her regret the fact she was ensconced in a hospital room. Taking pity on him, Silver eased her hand back into the former position.  
  
"Silver, how long before you're out of here?"  
  
"In all probability, a week."  
  
McQueen gripped her hand hard. "No sooner?"  
  
Shaking her head, Silver said, "No quicker way with all the stress around here."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"In a less stressful environment, I could enter a sort of hibernation state and accelerate my healing that way. But I would be starved when I came out and would be forced to hunt."  
  
"Hunt? People?"  
  
"No, animals, Ty." She smacked his thigh. "It's a total reversion to the primal form. Earth is perfect for it. I would go out into the wilderness for several days and just hunt, mostly a lot of rabbits, but the occasional deer. Afterwards, I would be mostly healed."  
  
"I wish I could provide you with what you need."  
  
"You've done a great deal already, Ty. Enough guilt. No more games of what if' or I should've,' all right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. Now, how about a kiss?"  
  
McQueen obliged, cradling her face between his hands and wishing he could speed up her healing. He wanted her out of Sickbay. Even more, he wanted her in his bed where he could make love to her as she deserved. Her good arm curled around his chest, pulling him closer and he drew the kiss out as long as he could. Coming up for air, he stretched out on the bed beside her, leaning on an elbow.  
  
The door opened. "Col. McQueen, you were not given permission to get on the bed."  
  
Before moving off the bed, McQueen gave Silver a sheepish grin. "Caught," he whispered. "Sorry, Dr. Connelly. A little impromptu PT incentive."  
  
Dr. Connelly snorted softly. "Right," she drawled. "At least you're a quick thinker. Now get. I have some things to discuss with my patient. You may return after lunch."  
  
He leaned over and gave Silver a kiss on the cheek. "See you later."  
  
"Ok. Why don't you write that letter?" Silver caressed his cheek in return.  
  
"You really know how to kill a good mood." He straightened. "But you're right. I'll have it in the mail before I come back."  
  
"Good idea."  
  
She watched him leave, his back straight, but not stiff. She knew it would be a hard task for him, but they both knew how easy it would be to keep putting it off. The letter would be hard for him, not being the usual death notification letter. He had to explain to one of his kids' why his actions had caused Adam to commit suicide.  
  
"A difficult letter?"  
  
"Very difficult. Did you know Adam?"  
  
"Unfortunately, no. I was assigned here a week after you left for your mission." Connelly folded her arms and said, "As to why I'm here. I didn't go into detail before as to the extent of your injuries. I feel I better give you a better idea of exactly what damage has been done."  
  
"I know I broke my shoulder as impossible as that sounds. But slamming into a cliff side and then falling from a fair distance is an excellent way of breaking bones." Silver ran her good hand through her hair. "Internal injuries, broken ribs, strains, sprains, and other assorted injuries. Sound about right?"  
  
"Yes. About your shoulder first, you broke the scapula, that's what everyone calls the shoulder blade. It broke into three sections and started healing incorrectly. From what the bone scanner shows, it looks like you must have damaged the knitting areas several times."  
  
"Five times, doctor."  
  
"Deliberately?"  
  
"Only twice. I knew it would have to be done when I was rescued."  
  
"Severe muscle damage was inflicted by those actions."  
  
"I know. I had a lot of trouble with the arm."  
  
"You also fractured the labrum portion of you shoulder socket."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"The outer edge of the socket. The back portion of the socket has two fractures in it. Also, you suffered damage to your rotator cuff."  
  
"Sounds like I pretty much screwed up my shoulder."  
  
"You did, but I think if we can keep it immobilized for the next several days, the majority of the damage will have started to heal. We used bone glue to put all the various broken sites back together. By tomorrow morning, the chances of the breaks being re-broken will be small, if you refrain from outrageous actions." Connelly stared at her patient. "I know you want to get active, but you just have to wait until you've healed enough. Once I have an idea of how fast you heal, I'll give you an idea of your PT schedule."  
  
"Better yours than my brother's. He'd drop me off in the top of a tree and tell me to climb down."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Not really, but it would be the equivalent. He's a damned good PT, but he can get carried away if you're a relative."  
  
Connelly nodded. "Now, as to duties once I clear you from here. You will be confined to a desk for at least a month during which time you will continue your physical therapy. Any setbacks will result in your staying on desk duty for longer."  
  
"Is bridge duty equivalent to desk duty?"  
  
"After two weeks, I'll allow you to work on the bridge."  
  
"I can live with that. Let's hope the commodore can. He wants me on the bridge during any space fights." Silver winced as her shoulder twinged. "How long will you leave the cast on my shoulder?"  
  
"Two days. After that, the bones should be set enough that we can get away with a sling."  
  
"Good. I feel distinctly unbalanced with the cast."  
  
"I want to make sure that the bones are strong enough to handle your moving around under normal circumstances."  
  
"I understand, doctor. I do want to heal up correctly." Silver smiled. "I want to get back to work as soon as possible. I have the feeling that things are not going to remain relatively quiet for long."  
  
Connelly asked, "What did you find out, colonel?"  
  
"The Chigs are up to some nasty things out there, doctor. I'm afraid you're going to have some busy times ahead." Silver closed her eyes.  
  
"I get the message. Colonel, you need to rest as much as possible."  
  
"I know. But I get bored very quickly. How long before I can be released from Sickbay?"  
  
"If you are a good patient, I might let you out after another five days."  
  
"Five days, huh? All right. I should be able to handle that. Just let me have my visitors and some sort of recreation, ok?"  
  
"What sorts of recreation?"  
  
"Mostly music, books and occasional board games. Oh, and the ability to record some messages."  
  
"Not poker?" Connelly  
  
"I wouldn't turn it down."  
  
"All right. You can have your recreation and visitors, as long as you keep it reasonable."  
  
"Agreed. I'll try to keep the squad from descending on Sickbay as a unit."  
  
"That would be helpful. Now, colonel, try to rest and get some sleep before lunch."  
  
"Is it going to be something resembling food?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Very well, doctor."  
  
As Connelly left, Silver lowered the bed and closed her eyes. Thoughts of McQueen bound on his bed, naked, flitted through her mind and it took her a while to get to sleep.  
  
****  
  
McQueen entered Silver's room quietly. The letter to Paul had been hard, harder than most death notifications that he had done. He felt he had done a poor job of explaining, but had eventually saved it. The recording now resided in the mail system. The somber mood writing the letter had created remained with him, despite having lunch with the squad. They had realized his mood and their antics had been low key.  
  
"I can see the mood you're in." Silver studied him over the book in her hand. "You don't have to keep me company, Ty. Go do whatever would make you feel better."  
  
"I can do that here."  
  
Silver cocked her head at him. "And that would be?"  
  
"Read. Listen to music. Try to take my mind off it by having good conversation." He gave her an amused look.  
  
"All right. I get the idea." She laughed. "So, which would you like to do first?"  
  
Three hours later, McQueen looked up as Griffon limped into the room and slowly eased onto his bed. McQueen paused in reading from the first of the McCaffrey books. Silver's hand tightened on his thigh and he marked his place.  
  
"How's Cassie, Griffon?"  
  
"Doing fine. She was enjoying herself when I left. She listens well. No incidents." Griffon's eyes closed. "Unlike someone else I remember."  
  
"You've just learned how to deal with the Silver women is all." Silver chuckled.  
  
"Hope you're up to the challenge she represents, McQueen. She's a handful." Griffon smiled, but kept his eyes closed.  
  
"Can't be worse than when I first took over the 58th. Five kids at once. And I had no idea how to deal with them."  
  
"She's not that bad...I think."  
  
"You're lucky there's no handy projectiles, Grif." A faint smile touched Silver's lips.  
  
"It's the prerogative of long association. I have a ton of stories I could tell him."  
  
"If you like living, you'll keep the embarrassing ones to a minimum," growled Silver, a mock frown on her face. "Besides, I have a few stories of my own."  
  
"Uncle." Griffon's weary voice held amusement.  
  
"Go to sleep, Grif."  
  
"Thanks. I think I will." Griffon rolled onto his side.  
  
McQueen gave Silver a concerned look.  
  
"It's normal. He's just a bit more tired than usual due to his injuries."  
  
"Did he- I mean-"  
  
"No. He didn't have sex with Cassie. I'm guessing Russell got that honor after suitable preparation. It wouldn't do for Cassie to get pregnant. She's much too young."  
  
"So what exactly happened?" McQueen closed the book after noting the page number.  
  
"There's a lot she has to learn." Silver sidestepped the question slightly. "She needs to learn how to drink without harming, how to monitor the one she's drinking from, how to keep control and how to recognize when she needs to drink. Plus how to ask nicely."  
  
"And don't forget the sex part," McQueen added dryly.  
  
"Never."  
  
"So given your evasive answer, I will assume that Cassie has learned only the extreme basics of what you've listed." McQueen tapped the book absently on his knee.  
  
"Depending on how long Griffon lasted, yes." Silver noted his straightening in the chair. "He will have taught her what she needs to know to survive the next several days."  
  
"What about the trip back? Won't she need someone?"  
  
"She should be fine for the ten to twelve hour trip. By the time she gets home, my parents will have made arrangements for her first circle selection." Silver sighed. "I have to talk to Cassie about that. It's rare when you keep anyone from your first circle past a year or so. Some it will be a matter of you just can't get along. Others it's because you're going in different directions with your lives. The circle is constantly changing. After all, you don't want to force someone to remain with you if it's against their wishes. I lucked out with my choice of Gayle. She's been a good friend since that first time and whenever I'm on Earth, she seeks me out to renew her standing in the circle. I'm going to suggest to Cassie that she ask Gayle."  
  
"Shouldn't she be choosing from those her own age?"  
  
"Some will be, but there needs to be some older heads involved. People able to keep tabs on how things are going and avert disaster. Seven or so teenagers can get into a lot of mischief."  
  
The name Gayle prompted, "Gayle Trenton?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"She's a flight instructor at Loxley. Always around whenever I went to the flight strip. I remember she took my picture one day before I returned to the Toga. She refused to give it to me. Said it was a gift to a friend."  
  
"It's a very powerful picture, Ty. Actually, it's one of a set of four she took that day. If my album comes back, I'll show them to you. Rage, despair, resignation, and acceptance, all in the space of ten mikes. If it had been anyone else but you, Ty, I would have let Gayle submit them to the regional contest." The stunned look on his face made Silver smile. "What? Didn't think someone would think you were photogenic?"  
  
"Silver, no one ever wanted pictures of just me. Even Anne wanted photos of the two of us."  
  
"The more fool her. Ty, I would want pictures of you in states the Corps does not like to think of its officers in."  
  
Curiosity reared its head. "Like?" A part of him dreaded the answer.  
  
"A bubble bath. Certain exercises with the proper incentive added. Things like that."  
  
From the lewd expression on her face, McQueen could conjure up several such incentives. But he forced his mind to the first image. "A bubble bath?"  
  
"Not alone, silly."  
  
That brought other images to mind and McQueen felt the unaccustomed heat of blood flushing his cheeks. "Got it."  
  
"Thought you might."  
  
Dr. Connelly stepped through the doors, her eyes on the computer pad in her hand. She glanced up. "Col. McQueen. Go exercise that body of yours. Then eat dinner. You may return after 1800 hours."  
  
"What about Cassie?"  
  
"If you see her, explain that she may come by around 1700 hours." Dr. Connelly put her hands on her hips. "And tell your squad they may stop by after 1800."  
  
"Yes, doctor." McQueen placed the book on the stand, rising. "I will see you later, Silver."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"My patients need to rest."  
  
McQueen hid his amusement at the doctor's dry tone. He quickly left the room before Connelly saw his amused look. Outside, McQueen paused to consider where he should first go. Cassie first, then the squad, and finally the gym before dinner.  
  
****  
  
Knocking on Silver's hatch, McQueen heard St. John call out, "Who is it?"  
  
"Colonel McQueen."  
  
"Be a couple of mikes, sir."  
  
"I'll wait."  
  
McQueen leaned against the wall, fully aware of the fact that those who knew him would be shocked. But for a change, he didn't care that he wasn't fitting the image he had spent so much time cultivating.  
  
A few minutes later, the hatch opened. "Come on in, sir." St. John stood, flight suit mostly zipped up.  
  
Knowing what had been going on in the room, McQueen merely ran his gaze over the disheveled Marine as he entered. Within he found Cassie stretched out on the bed sleeping while the other two Marines sat on the floor in disarray.  
  
"Sorry, sir, about not being fully dressed." Russell covered a yawn. "We were napping."  
  
"I didn't expect you to be combat ready." McQueen moved over to the bed, looking down at Cassie. "How's she doing?"  
  
"Fine, sir. She's a fast learner." Finch smiled softly at the girl, unabashed by the fact that her flight suit was open down to her waist. "Her body is going through some readjustments and sleep is actually good for her right now."  
  
"When she wakes up, let her know she can see her mother after 1700 hours. Make sure she eats before then." McQueen fixed Finch with a glare.  
  
"Yes, sir. She'll eat properly."  
  
"Good. I don't want to explain to Silver why her daughter, who is nominally in my care while aboard, missed meals." McQueen hoped that would be all the warning he would have to give.  
  
"Understood, colonel. Cassie will be eating properly." Russell yawned again. "Sorry, sir."  
  
"It's all right. And for your own information, if you want to visit Silver, do so after 1800."  
  
"1800 got it." St. John dropped down into a chair, yawning.  
  
"Get some more sleep, if you can. But make sure Cassie gets to see her mother between 1700 and 1800. It'll be the only time they have together alone tonight."  
  
"Yes, sir," echoed all three.  
  
"I'll see you later."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
McQueen found the rest of the squad in their barracks, in various stages of undress. From the stiffness in their movements, he decided that they had used the gym already.  
  
Spotting him, Vansen straightened. "Sir?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong, Vansen. Just thought I'd let you know that Silver will be available for visits after 1800 hours. And I don't mind sharing."  
  
Vansen smiled. "Thank you, sir."  
  
He nodded. "Just back from the gym?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"I'm on my way there now."  
  
Hawkes looked up from his bunk. "Sir, may I join you?"  
  
"Hawkes, you just finished a round. Why the hell do you want to go again?" West peeled off his sweatshirt and flung it at his bed.  
  
"I just do. I don't expect you to understand." Hawkes stood up, shoulders hunched defensively.  
  
"I could use the company, Hawkes." McQueen suspected Hawkes wanted to talk to him. "The rest of you... About Silver, are you comfortable with what you now know?"  
  
Halfway to the showers, West stopped, towel over his shoulder. "Sir, I am. Silver's good for you. And like she said the first night here, in this room to us, you need someone to remind you to be a man, not just a Marine. That's something we can't do for you."  
  
Phousse leaned against the side of the bunk. "Sir, Silver proved herself over and over. Now that I know some more, I can see why some of the things that didn't make sense to me at the time were that way. Now, I have no problem with the situation."  
  
"And sir, it's fine with me, too." Vansen looked up at McQueen. "I know I've been a real bitch about the situation. But I'm ok about it now. I can even see a few advantages to having the knowledge."  
  
"Good." McQueen motioned for Hawkes to join him. "Will I be seeing you in Sickbay?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Hawkes remained silent during the trip to the officer's gym. Still in his sweats, Hawkes waited quietly as McQueen changed clothes. He joined McQueen in warm-up exercises in the nearly empty gym.  
  
"Permission to speak freely, sir." Hawkes finished his fiftieth stretch.  
  
"Granted." McQueen walked over to the punching bags.  
  
As McQueen started pummeling the bag, Hawkes stared at the floor mats. "Are you considering becoming her consort?"  
  
"You don't ask easy questions, Hawkes." McQueen landed several solid blows. "I am considering it, yes. Have I made up my mind? No." He punched the bag, hard. "There are several things I must consider before making my decision." Punch. "And I can't tell you about them, at least not now." Punch, punch, kick.  
  
"Are you comfortable with her being what she is?" Hawkes lowered his voice.  
  
"I think so." Kick, kick.  
  
"Would you consider what I am? I mean, if you were me?"  
  
"Possibly." Kick, punch. "Hawkes, it is a decision you'll have to make for yourself, once you have more information." Punch, kick. "You will have to weigh the pros and cons. Then make your decision." Kick, punch.  
  
"You're not helping, sir."  
  
McQueen paused and gave Hawkes an amused look. "You have to make the decision, Hawkes, not me. All I can do is give you the tools to make an informed decision. Ultimately, it's your choice and you will have to live with the consequences, good or ill."  
  
"You think it would be a bad choice?" Worry showed in Hawkes' face.  
  
"I didn't say that." McQueen reached up to grip the young man's shoulder. "Don't worry about it until you have all the information. Then take the time to seriously examine both sides of the issue before making a decision as life changing as this."  
  
Hawkes nodded.  
  
"Now, I'd like to get in a real workout. Will you wrestle with me?"  
  
A delighted grin preceded an enthusiastic "Yes, sir!"  
  
As they moved over to a set of mats, McQueen reflected that it would be nice not to have to curtail his strength and speed. The opportunity to peacefully fully utilize his abilities rarely occurred. With the improved relationship with the squad, he no longer felt awkward asking Hawkes to work out with him. It would allow them both to truly exercise their bodies with out the added worry about inadvertently hurting someone else.  
  
An intense thirty minute workout later, McQueen and Hawkes stopped by unspoken mutual consent, with McQueen the winner by two falls. For a few seconds, McQueen merely stretched out on the mat, aware of the fact that his experience had barely given him the edge over Hawkes' youth, height and weight.  
  
"Starting to feel your age?"  
  
Opening his eyes, McQueen gave Ross a hint of a smile. "Which one? The time since my birth or my conception?"  
  
"The latter." Ross stood at the edge of the mats, dressed in Navy exercise sweats.  
  
Wryly, McQueen admitted, "Some. But it felt good to really let go. Outside of combat."  
  
"I bet." Ross moved over and crouched down by McQueen's head. "I watched the last fifteen mikes. Impressive. I think you gave some of the other onlookers reason to reconsider things."  
  
"Others?" McQueen rolled onto his hands and knees. Springing to his feet, he found a small crowd of about twenty officers standing a discreet distance away. To their left stood the rest of the 58th. "Damn, I wasn't putting on a show," he muttered.  
  
Straightening up, Ross said, "They know that. That's what makes it all the more impressive." Ross kept from patting his friend on the shoulder, aware of how much McQueen hated public displays of touching.  
  
Hawkes stood nearby, obviously prepared to play bodyguard. "Sir?"  
  
Momentarily, McQueen thought of abandoning the rest of his intended workout. But his innate stubbornness reared up. "I'm not finished. They can gawk all they like. But you can leave if you feel uncomfortable, Hawkes."  
  
"No more than you. I'll stick it out, sir."  
  
McQueen nodded his thanks.  
  
"Think you can allow an old man to join you for a bit?"  
  
"We can take it easy on you." McQueen gestured toward the sparring ring. "Feel free to join us when you've warmed up."  
  
The onlookers were treated to the sight of the Toga's commanding officer in the sparring ring, holding his own after another fifteen minutes. By the end of an additional thirty minutes all three called it quits.  
  
Ross leaned against the wall, breathing hard. "Now what?"  
  
"Curls, push-ups, pull-ups, one hundred of each," answered McQueen.  
  
"Don't think I am up to that many."  
  
"Shoot for-" McQueen eyed his friend critically, not wanting to overtax him, "fifty of each. You still need to work out."  
  
Ross nodded. "That's why I'm here. Been spending too much time in my office."  
  
It took twenty minutes for the three to finish. With a self-satisfied smile, McQueen led the way to the changing room, noting that the rest of the squad took up position outside the door. He felt a sense of bone deep tiredness from a hard workout, something he rarely felt these days. But McQueen thought it might become a more familiar feeling.  
  
Slinging his soaked sweatshirt in the bottom of his locker, McQueen looked over at Hawkes. "Thanks."  
  
Hawkes grinned. "I enjoyed it, sir."  
  
"So did I."  
  
"Can we do it more often?"  
  
Considering that it was the first time they had done it, he thought it would be a good thing to do at least once a week. "Yes. I think it would do us both a world of good. And when Silver is up to speed, I suspect she'll be joining us."  
  
"What about Russell, Finch and St. John?"  
  
"They can join if they want to."  
  
"How is Silver doing?" asked Ross, a towel wrapped around his waist.  
  
"Doing fine. Visitors are allowed after 1800 hours."  
  
"I know. The good doctor gave me the boot an hour ago when I tried to stop by." Ross shrugged. "So, are you going to shower or not?"  
  
With a soft chuckle, McQueen flung a towel over his shoulder, unabashed about his nakedness with these two. "Let's go clean up."  
  
The shower refreshed McQueen and he swiftly dressed in his flight suit. "Go on, Hawkes. Get out of those sweats."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Take the others with you. See you in the mess?"  
  
"Definitely, sir."  
  
Ross sauntered over. "That boy has boundless energy. Where does he keep the batteries?"  
  
"He didn't have to hide that energy. Even at his age, I never exuded that kind of energy." McQueen shook his head. "Sometimes I wish I still had that level, but what I have now is worth the loss."  
  
Squeezing McQueen's shoulder, Ross said, "We all envy the youngsters, McQueen. It's a sign of growing older. What's next?"  
  
"Dinner." McQueen held open the changing room door.  
  
"Mind if I join you?"  
  
"You'd be welcome." McQueen gave his friend a genuine smile. "Afterwards, I'll be sharing visiting hours."  
  
"Not for long, I suspect." Ross gave the various officers still in the gym a nod. "Once they've reassured themselves about her condition and had her tell them, they'll vacate the premises. And so will I."  
  
"What? No more pennies to lose?"  
  
Chuckling, Ross said, "All right. But we really need a fourth."  
  
"We have one. Griffon." McQueen let Ross leave the gym first.  
  
"Hm."  
  
"He's not a bad sort... once you get past the bashing part."  
  
"If it's all right with you, then it's fine with me." Ross shook his head slightly, pushing the up arrow for the elevator.  
  
"So how did the inventory go? Ever find those five missing torpedoes?"  
  
"No. I have the sneaking suspicion that someone forgot to keep track of the numbers during one of the big fights."  
  
"I'll tell you which one I'd pick first."  
  
"I think we both pick the fight with the Super Hive Ship."  
  
The elevator door opened. "Yes." McQueen entered the empty car, pushing the nine button. "It would have been easy to lose track of how many salvos we fired."  
  
Ross slumped against the vibrating wall. "What a mess, and what a way to fight a war. But if I don't account for those missing torpedoes, they'll short us five on the next supply run."  
  
"And we definitely don't want that." McQueen frowned, staring at the wall. "We might need those extra torpedoes." He glanced over at his obviously tired friend. "How about I have the squad track down the various records? It'll be a good training exercise for them. They should know more about the Saratoga's operations. After all, they depend on this ship for life."  
  
"I've already got people on it, McQueen."  
  
McQueen shrugged. "So we'll compare notes afterwards. See if the numbers add up."  
  
"Since you're going to do it whether I agree or not, I'll give it my blessing."  
  
The elevator door opened and they exited.  
  
"It'll give them something constructive to do and it does somewhat relate to their last mission."  
  
"All right."  
  
Both men had sat down with their trays by the time the 58th arrived, including the three newest.  
  
Russell, covering a yawn, went straight to McQueen. "Cassie has eaten, sir, and is on her way to see her mother."  
  
"Good. Get some food in you."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Ross looked at McQueen. "If the squad joins us often, I guess I better arrange for a larger table."  
  
Leaning back in his chair, McQueen looked thoughtful. "I think mostly it'll be just you, me and Silver. I suspect the squad will revert to their normal eating patterns once Silver is released from Sickbay and back on some sort of duty."  
  
"Some of the other squadrons are going to start demanding equal time with me." Ross sighed.  
  
"You don't have to give it, Glen. We are the best squadron, I'm a long time friend and you don't give us easy assignments. They can't complain that you show us preferential treatment. Besides, you can spend your off-time with whoever you want."  
  
Hawkes stood beside the table. "Commodore, would you rather we ate somewhere else?"  
  
"No, Hawkes. Sit down. I was just telling McQueen that other squadrons are going to be pestering me since I've been spending as much time with the 58th as I have." Ross took a bite of food as Hawkes scooted his chair in.  
  
"There have been some rumblings about it," admitted Vansen as she sat down. "But not from the various squadron commanders. Mostly they appear to be fine with the situation. At the moment, most of the grumbling is about the length of our down time from this last mission."  
  
"The other pilots ask why and all we tell them is that it was a grueling retrieval." West sat down beside Vansen. "When they press, we say it's compartmentalized. That usually shuts them up."  
  
Setting her tray down, Phousse said, "A couple have ferreted out some of the details. They've told me they can't imagine such a long run. I say, 'Neither could I' and that seems to satisfy them."  
  
"It really was a long run." Hawkes glanced up from his plate.  
  
"And just keep telling them what you have been." McQueen ate a bite of his mystery meat and gravy. "Vansen, I have a task for the squadron. As you may have gathered, the Saratoga is conducting an inventory. Five torpedoes have disappeared. I want you to find them or at least what happened to them."  
  
"Sir, that's a Navy job!" Vansen looked shocked.  
  
"And I'm saying it's now your job." McQueen put his fork down and gave the Marines a cool look. "The Navy supports you in every capacity. Without the Navy, we would not be sitting here, on this vessel. You appear to have little appreciation for the job the Navy does for you. So..." His eyes narrowed slightly. "For the next seven days, while you track down the missing torpedoes, you will learn everything the Navy does for you. In addition to your regular duties. I will expect a comprehensive verbal report from each of you."  
  
Subdued, Vansen nodded. "Yes, sir."  
  
The rest of the squadron muttered their agreements.  
  
"Vansen, I expect rivalry between the Marines and the Navy. But I do not expect you to treat the Navy's jobs as below you. Approach this job as you would any other mission." McQueen turned his sharp gaze on Hawkes. "Hawkes, do you know what will happen if we don't discover what happened to those five torpedoes?"  
  
Frowning, Hawkes thought for a moment. "Supply won't replace them?" McQueen's nod invited him to continue. "Which means the Toga will be short five torpedoes. And if we get into a fierce battle with the Chigs, we might not have enough torpedoes to defend the Toga." A worried look entered Hawkes' face. "Sir, I don't want to lose the Toga."  
  
"Neither do I, Hawkes. Neither does the commodore. So find out what happened to those torpedoes."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
After dinner, McQueen headed to Sickbay. He found Cassie stretched out on the bed beside her mother, dozing. Taking Silver's hand in his, McQueen sat beside the bed, sharing a smile with her as he glanced at the sleeping teenager. He spoke softly.  
  
"The squad will be in here shortly as will Ross."  
  
"Figured. So, did you follow the doctor's orders?"  
  
"Yes. Hawkes helped me work out. We both rather enjoyed it."  
  
"Liked not having to hold back, did you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I know what you mean."  
  
Remembering that first morning when she had made her intentions clear, McQueen nodded.  
  
"Hi, Ty." Cassie raised her head up, looking over her mother.  
  
"Evening, Cassie. Feeling all right?"  
  
"Yes. Tired, but Mom explained that it's because of the changes my body is going through." Cassie sat up and stretched. After hugging her mother, Cassie slid from the bed. "Be back in a few."  
  
McQueen sat beside the bed. "Silver?"  
  
"I'm all right."  
  
"What about him?" McQueen jerked his head toward Griffon's bed.  
  
"I'm sure he's all right, too. He slept all afternoon."  
  
"Because your daughter wore me out," grumbled Griffon, still curled on his side.  
  
"She's a Silver," stated Jake from just inside the doorway. "May I come in, Lysa?"  
  
"Yes, Jake. I'm not angry with you."  
  
"I need to talk to you for a couple of minutes." Jake met McQueen's glance. "Alone, please."  
  
"How alone?" asked Griffon.  
  
"If you promise not to listen in-"  
  
"Too tempting." Griffon sat up with a yawn. "Colonel, how about a hand up and some company on a short walkabout?"  
  
McQueen rose. "Sounds good, Colonel."  
  
The door swinging shut behind them, McQueen didn't look at Griffon as he said, "I'll buy you a coffee at the Tun."  
  
"I take it you want to talk to me. Very well." Griffon walked at a slower than normal pace for him. "What is it?"  
  
"I told Silver the gist of what happened during your lesson,' including your description of me. She was unhappy at having missed the show." McQueen said nothing else until they were on the fortunately empty elevator. "Griffon, I want to do it again. For her, with her watching, I want it to be a gift to her. So that no matter how this relationship goes, she'll have that memory."  
  
Griffon forced McQueen to look at him. "God, McQueen. Do you realize how special you are? No matter how the bastards try to badmouth tanks, you and the others give them the lie. To gift her with that, god, that's incredible."  
  
The elevator door started to open and Griffon rapidly dropped his hand.  
  
As they left the elevator, McQueen gave Griffon an anxious look. "So?"  
  
"Yes. Yes, I'll do it."  
  
****  
  
Jake was gone by the time they returned to Silver's room. Most of the rest of the 58th squadron had arrived. West and Hawkes were missing. As Griffon headed over to his bed, the two arrived.  
  
"Sorry. We were arguing over some details of the party." West shrugged. "We'll have it worked out by the time you get out, Silver."  
  
McQueen remained near the doorway, watching the way his kids acted around Silver. By the way Russell and the other two relaxed, he knew that Silver really was healing. Vansen hung back slightly, but listened attentively as West and Phousse regaled Silver with some of their missions during her absence. To his credit, Hawkes jumped in whenever he thought they had left something out. Hawkes even grinned at the good-natured ribbing the others gave him over some of his social mistakes.  
  
The door opened a while later and Ross stuck his head in. "Looks a bit crowded in here, Ty. Are you sure there's a patient in here?"  
  
"I hope so. I would hate for these stories to be wasted on bare walls." McQueen gave his friend a quick smile. "Ready to lose some money tonight?"  
  
"Feeling lucky, are you?"  
  
"Some what."  
  
"You're on."  
  
"As soon as the squad leaves then."  
  
Ten minutes later, Vansen glanced at her timepiece. "Hate to break this up, but Nurse Temple did threaten to suspend our visitation rights if we stayed longer than thirty mikes."  
  
"Been that long already?" Hawkes stared at his own timepiece. "Damn. I wanted to tell her about-"  
  
"You'll have time to, Hawkes. Just not tonight." Silver touched him gently on the arm. "Good night, Coop."  
  
Hawkes looked indecisive for a second. Then he leaned over and kissed Silver on the cheek. "Good night...Mother."  
  
"She prefers Mom," piped up Cassie. "I'll say good night too, Mom." Cassie hugged her mother, kissing her other cheek. "I'll stop by in the morning before the transport leaves."  
  
"Night, Cassie. You're a good kid." Silver smiled and lightly stroked her daughter's hair.  
  
Within a couple of minutes, only McQueen and Ross were left of the visitors.  
  
Silver looked at Ross. "Did I hear the mention of losing money?"  
  
With a rueful chuckle, Ross nodded. "Thought maybe a game of poker. Feel up to it?"  
  
"Definitely."  
  
McQueen looked over at where Griffon sat reading. "Griffon, would you care to join us?"  
  
Genuine surprise crossed Griffon's face before he controlled his expression. "Sure, why not?"  
  
An hour later when Ross tiredly admitted defeat, McQueen and Silver held most of the winnings. Ross owed them both around seven hundred and Griffon had lost over three thousand, owing Ross nearly a thousand.  
  
"Cut throat, the pair of you." Griffon shook his head. "I should know better than to play against you, Silver. I rarely win against you."  
  
Gathering the cards, McQueen said, "I would have thought you would hold your own."  
  
"With any one but her. She rips right through my defenses, no matter the game." Griffon sighed, not meeting Silver's eyes. "I think I'll take a walk."  
  
"And I better go to bed. That damn inventory won't go away without hard work." Ross stood up, buttoning his shirt back up.  
  
Silver held Ross back with a light touch on his arm as Griffon left the room. "Would you be adverse to a more... challenging game of poker some time?"  
  
"Challenging in what way?"  
  
"Different types of stakes. Not money." Silver released Ross. "Only in fun, though, and nothing forced. All between friends."  
  
Ross' eyes showed he had a pretty good idea of what Silver alluded to. "Only if we can guarantee no interruptions." He had not missed the way Silver's gaze had been drawn to his bared throat.  
  
"We're in a war zone," pointed out McQueen. He had his own ideas.  
  
"There's the Bacchus. It should be around in what, two, three months?" Silver kept her eyes on Ross, but raised her hand toward McQueen.  
  
"Closer to three." Ross glanced at McQueen and saw willingness in his friend's eyes. "I'll arrange it when the time comes. I can always pull the 'Toga back off the front line for a couple of days."  
  
A smile of pure delight and Silver laughed. "Your wife won't mind?"  
  
Ross shook his head. "No. She knows I've had the occasional fling. After all, I'm a man stuck out in the middle of space. It's amazing we've managed to have four children. And yes, they are all mine. Blood tests prove it." He smiled.  
  
"Never doubted it." Silver patted his hand. "And Glen, if you decide to back out, it's all right. I don't want to push you into anything you're not comfortable with."  
  
"It's been a few years is all." Ross straightened. "I better say good night to you both."  
  
"Night, Glen." McQueen gave his friend a nod.  
  
"Night, Glen."  
  
"Night, Ty, Lysa."  
  
McQueen settled back into his chair. "That was unexpected of you. Why?"  
  
"I think he could use the downtime as well. And I like him. And there is some attraction. Plus he wants you. It'll give him an incentive to really strive to win. Don't you think?"  
  
"Oh, yes. You may regret this."  
  
"I don't think so." Silver laughed softly.  
  
"What would you like to do now?"  
  
"Feel up to reading some more?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
****  
  
Every day the squad came and visited Silver whenever they were free from their duties. McQueen knew that his extra task irked them, but he knew that they'd benefit from understanding the way the Toga operated. Their regular exercise schedule back in place, Nurse Temple allowed McQueen to visit after 2100 hours alone or with Ross. With reluctance McQueen satisfied himself with kisses and caresses instead of the intense lovemaking he knew she was capable of, even injured as she was.  
  
****  
  
After four days, Silver finally broke free of Sickbay. Griffon who had been released the previous day waited with McQueen.  
  
"So, McQueen, when do you want to do this?"  
  
Instantly, McQueen regretted the whole idea. His gut tightened and he wanted to back out. Then he remembered the way Silver had looked at the idea of him bound and naked. McQueen forced himself to make the commitment. "Tomorrow night. 1800 hours."  
  
"We'll be there."  
  
A few minutes later Silver walked down the corridor from her Sickbay room to the waiting area. "An escort of two? Somehow I think I can handle the walk."  
  
"Thought you might like the company." Griffon grinned. "Besides, there's the possibility that you've forgotten where your quarters are."  
  
"You wish."  
  
Together the two men escorted Silver to her quarters.  
  
****  
  
The party held that night was a success for all of its simplicity. Someone had drawn a Christmas tree and tacked it on the wall. Underneath were the presents from the squadron. The presents were mostly little things, tokens of respect. Shane gave Silver things to refit her fighting kit since most had been lost on the planet: a new k-bar and sheath, a canteen and a new back pack. Both Phousse and West had scrounged through the ship to find books they thought she would like. From Hawkes was a simple black scarf that he had traded for. A music disc of Bach was McQueen's gift while Ross gave her a set of picture frames.  
  
Afterwards, Silver slept in her bed for the first time in months.  
  
****  
  
McQueen felt nervous as he let Silver and Griffon into his quarters. Locking the hatch, he saw his hand tremble slightly.  
  
"Ty, you don't have to do this." Silver's voice held concern and compassion.  
  
Before he turned around, McQueen said, "I want to do this." He faced her. "I don't want to wait until you're healed enough. I want to do this now."  
  
Silver moved up beside him, her good arm wrapping around his waist. He gave with the tug, enjoying the feel of her body against him. Pressing his lips to hers, McQueen drowned in the sensations. The world both contracted and expanded. It contracted to just the pair of them, locked in a deep, desperate kiss and expanded to reveal the universe. One hand on her lower back, the other cupping her face, McQueen lost himself in the kiss.  
  
As they parted for breath, Silver murmured, "Oh, Ty, you taste so damn good. I want to taste every part of you."  
  
"Soon enough." Forcing himself to release her, McQueen took a shaky step back. "Let me give you this gift first. Please."  
  
She nodded, her eyes a bright emerald.  
  
A steadying breath and McQueen stripped quickly down to bare skin. He resolutely stretched out on the bed.  
  
Silently, Griffon opened the satchel and took out the white silk scarves. One by one, he secured McQueen's limbs to the bed, caressing and kissing the slightly trembling skin.  
  
"You're a beautiful sight, Ty." Silver sat beside him, stroking his bare chest, enjoying the feel of his body. "Now, there's been a slight change of plans. I'm going to orchestrate this time." When McQueen stared at her, head raised, she caressed his jaw. "Did you really think I would let him touch you freely again after what happened last time? No. I want to be in charge of everything that happens here. Will you let me?"  
  
McQueen swallowed once. "Yes," he said softly.  
  
"Do you give me the right of control?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She gave him a delighted grin at his instant response. "Thank you, Ty. You won't regret it. Trust me."  
  
"Always." McQueen laid his head back and closed his eyes.  
  
A moment later, he felt her settle down lightly on his stomach. Frissons of fire slid along his nerves at the feel of her bare skin. A groan tore its way free when her mouth started kissing his throat. Torturous lips and tongue explored every inch of his jaw, throat and mouth. Every kiss he returned eagerly, desperate for the taste of her.  
  
The delightful fire moved down to his chest and almost became unbearable for a few seconds as she paid attention to his nipples, licking, nipping and sucking on them. The shifting of her body escaped his notice as her mouth traveled down the bare unmarked skin of his abdomen, leaving a trail of fire behind.  
  
Fanning the fire in his skin, Silver's mouth continued tasting him, moving to the hollow of his hips, the inside of his quivering thighs, the sides and backs of his flexed knees and from his ankles to his toes, sucking each one lightly. On the way back up, she continued the torturous use of her mouth, roaming everywhere but the one place McQueen desperately wanted to feel her mouth McQueen twisted futilely as she reached his jaw and he shifted his head to kiss her. Three desperate kisses he managed before Silver pulled away.  
  
"God, Ty..." Breathless, Silver straightened, head flung back.  
  
The sight of her bared throat made McQueen struggle against his bonds. He wanted to kiss her throat, every inch of her, imprint himself on her senses like she was doing to him. "Lysa!"  
  
She looked down at him.  
  
Her eyes, still bright, settled him back on the bed. The desire in her eyes promised still more. And if she played him like Griffon had, he wanted to experience it. "Do with me what you will," he whispered.  
  
Silver sucked in her breath as if she hadn't expected to hear him speak so. The passion in her eyes flared. She kissed the hollow of his throat, then below his right ear. She said softly, "Thank you. You'll enjoy it. That's a promise."  
  
Sitting back up, her fingers caressing his jaw and throat, Silver said, "Relax, Ty. For the oil to be properly applied is a two handed task so Griffon will be doing that part." Reluctantly, Silver slid off McQueen.  
  
Griffon had stripped down to his shorts. The oil's scent reached McQueen as Griffon started working it in. Strawberry.  
  
Letting the capable hands do their work and knowing it would be the last time he truly had a chance to relax, McQueen closed his eyes and let his body enjoy the massage. Deep breaths centered him and McQueen allowed his mind to float. Sometime later Griffon's hands finished.  
  
"He's ready, Lysa."  
  
"Then begin." Her voice was steady. "Follow my finger." She sat beside McQueen.  
  
Griffon's weight settled between McQueen's legs and the soft touch of the feather began its slow travel over his body. Knowing that Silver was directing the feather's path made him even more sensitive. Spots he had not realized were erotic responded under her guidance. Near the bottom of his left ribs she discovered that he quivered and gasped. Nerves buried in the scar tissue there had regenerated. The junction of his right shoulder and neck could make him arch his back. Just behind his left ear the feather could illicit groans and shudders. Repeatedly returning to these areas had him achingly hard, twisting, fighting his bonds. He felt as though he would explode any minute. Only the fact that he knew it could get even more intense held him back. He wanted to know how high she could take him.  
  
The feather, which had yet to travel below his ribs, withdrew its touch. A hand, her hand, started soothing, easing the desperation his body felt. He had survived another round. Eyes still closed, he surrendered to her touch. He marveled at the way her fingers drew off the tension, allowing him to relax for the next session.  
  
"Ready?" she asked, her fingers caressing his throat.  
  
"Yes."  
  
He could hear her smile when she said, "Good."  
  
The feather renewed its assault and he quickly succumbed to the light caresses. Down to his toes it traveled this time, his entire body helpless under the onslaught. By the time she gave him relief from the feather, he couldn't string together coherent syllables. Her hands resumed stroking his taut body, easing the tension once more.  
  
When he he could speak again, he said, "I'm going to be wrung out by the time we finish this."  
  
"That is part of the general idea." She enjoyed the sight of his oiled, sweating body. "You'll sleep tonight."  
  
"Yes." He looked at her, wishing he could ask for a kiss.  
  
As if reading the desire in his eyes, she kissed him, and then nibbled his lower lip. "Doing all right?"  
  
"Yes. And I'm ready if you are." He knew what was probably coming.  
  
"Ok."  
  
She didn't disappoint him. Once he was dancing to the feather's touch, she had it stroke up his rampant cock. Two, three times he rose to find nothing waiting for him on the way down. Then the fourth time, a lubed finger was pressing lightly against his tight opening. he eased downward, taking the length at last. The feather brushed across a nipple and he gasped at the unexpected touch.  
  
The finger inside him slowly slid in and out, working to ease the transition. He realized that the finger belonged to Silver, not Griffon, and he smiled. She truly intended to participate as fully as possible.  
  
His thoughts were disrupted as the feather stroked his cock again.  
  
She watched as he rapidly lost himself in the rhythm she created. Half- formed pleas and gasps were all he could manage as she increased the pace and introduced a second finger. By the time all three fingers were stretching him, he entranced her with the way his body bucked with abandon. She withdrew her fingers, cleaned them on a wet cloth and started stroking the heaving body before her, gradually quelling the tremors of intense need. His breathing steadied and she kissed him, reveling in the delicious taste of his mouth.  
  
"Shall we continue?" she murmured against his mouth.  
  
In answer, he kissed her again. She started to pull away, and he sucked her lower lip into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. Fingers toyed with his nipple and he moaned, releasing her, feeling the heat of desire flaring up.  
  
She slid her fingers easily back into him and grinned at the way he pressed down, trying to drive them deeper. In retaliation, she sucked the tip of his cock into her mouth. The way he thrust up into her mouth pleased her and Silver stroked his prostate as he started downward. Despite the obvious desire he had to merely fuck himself, she admired the fact he waited for her signal before thrusting upwards and knew that she needed to switch her fingers out so that she could allow him to go wild.  
  
A whispered, "Here," and Silver felt the prepped dildo against her hand.  
  
Sliding down the dildo wrung a low moan from McQueen, but he didn't even slow his descent.  
  
In minutes, she had him frantically fucking himself between the dildo and her mouth. Watching him made her want him even more. The unrestrained way he rocked between the two intense pleasures, the sight of his head thrown back as he moaned and gave partial pleas, and the way his sweat soaked body thrashed completely out of his control decided her next course of action after she calmed him once more.  
  
She heard how he struggled not to curse in frustration when she pulled her mouth completely free of him. The dildo she left buried in him as she started gently stroking his heaving chest.  
  
"Oh, god," McQueen managed raggedly some minutes later. "I don't know how long I can keep this up. My heart's hammering in my chest."  
  
"You'll survive." The sweat had overpowered the oil, Silver noted, teasing his right nipple, and listening to him moan.  
  
"Do I want to? Scratch that. I want to. I just want to be able to appreciate it when it arrives." He took several deep breaths, striving to slow down his breathing.  
  
Silver waited until he had his breathing down to a near normal level, still hard and a bit fast, but not ragged or sobbing. She grabbed Griffon's hand and positioned it holding the dildo. Her gaze on his face, Silver rose and straddled the bound man, not sitting back. Instant understanding crossed his face and she gave him a delighted grin.  
  
There was no need to ask if he was ready. Curling her fingers around his hardness, Silver felt him thrust up ever so slightly, then back down. He waited for her to position him and signal that they were to start. Nodding her head, Silver watched as he thrust up into her depths. A cry of sheer pleasure escaped both of them. She made no attempt to control him, letting her head fall back, concentrating only on not sinking down, enjoying the sensation of his plowing deeply into her, knowing when he became completely consumed by the sensations.  
  
A hand braced between her shoulders, providing support. Silver forced herself to keep control enough that she didn't slide over the edge into orgasm. That she would do after he came. Seeing him under her, utterly lost to what they were doing, gave her a decidedly powerful, erotic feeling. A particularly strong shudder coursed through McQueen and Silver knew she had to stop him for the moment.  
  
The choked and frustrated scream he gave as she slid off of him sent a delicious shiver up her spine. Running her hands over his twisting body, Silver worked to ease McQueen's tension.  
  
He gulped lungfuls of air, his body still struggling. "I'm not going to last much longer."  
  
"You don't need to."  
  
"Thank you." He raised his head, trying to reach her mouth.  
  
She kissed him, allowing him to explore thoroughly. Breaking the kiss off, she smiled down at him and saw his answering smile in his brilliant sapphire eyes. "Ready?"  
  
"Definitely."  
  
"Try to keep control as long as you can, hm?"  
  
"Do my best."  
  
"And Ty? You really are beautiful." Silver ran her fingers across his throat and nipples.  
  
Watching as he writhed under her touch, Silver smiled and then bent her head down to lick his bared throat. With touch and licks, she soon had him thrashing uncontrollably. Pausing in her attentions, she waited until he could focus on her. Grasping him firmly, she eased down until he just entered her. Tremors ran through him as he waited for the signal.  
  
Silver nodded and moaned softly as he thrust up hard. Soon they were both lost in the wild mad rhythm. Dimly, she felt Griffon's hand on her back, but she concentrated on keeping herself from exploding, wanting to have McQueen come first.  
  
His body arching upward, McQueen came, screaming with the power of it. His hips bucked madly as he sank back onto the bed, overpowered by the sensation.  
  
Silver allowed herself to climax, sinking down onto the frantic hips, her muscles milking him dry. Pleasure rolled through her in waves and she didn't feel the arm that wrapped around her chest to keep her up off of McQueen. When she came back to herself, she found that she was snuggled into McQueen's side and that Griffon had already released him from his silken bonds.  
  
Raising her head, she saw Griffon at the foot of the bed, still stripped to his shorts. "Clean us up, Griffon."  
  
"Yes, Silver." He set a bottle of water down between them.  
  
Her thighs were parted and Silver felt Griffon's mouth at her groin. Expertly, he used his mouth and tongue to clean her up before moving over to do the same to McQueen. Silver watched him sharply, but he made no improper moves.  
  
Griffon rose and went to the bathroom. He returned with a warm, wet washcloth. With sure strokes, Griffon finished cleaning McQueen and then her. "May I leave now, Silver?"  
  
"No. I'm not finished with you."  
  
Griffon sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. "Silver... Lysa, I didn't mean to."  
  
"Would you prefer that I beat the hell out of you again?"  
  
"No." Griffon sighed. "Will it be over when you're done here?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Very well. I will stay and endure my punishment."  
  
Minutes later, McQueen stirred.  
  
She used her right hand to slowly bring the water bottle up onto to McQueen's chest. "Here's water. Drink."  
  
He took the bottle and turned his head slightly before starting to drink. He drained the bottle. Dropping the empty bottle on the floor, McQueen rolled toward Silver. "That was even more powerful than the first time. Dammit, Lysa, do you know what you do to me?"  
  
"I have an idea." She ran her hand up his scarred chest to his throat. "Why don't you show me?"  
  
Mindful of the fact that she still couldn't fully use her left arm, McQueen rolled Silver onto her back and started learning her body, knowing that he didn't need to be as gentle or careful as he had back on the planet. He knew she was in much better shape when she started responding to his caresses immediately. Her firm breasts that had never suckled a child, he suckled, licked and nipped, bringing them to hard points. The skin under his hands and fingers quivered and shivered as he explored, determined to bring her pleasure.  
  
Moans of delight and lust came from her and he felt her good hand running through his short hair. Slowly he worked his way down to her groin and then back up again. He fully intended to make passionate love to her and bring her pleasure at least twice before he even entered her. To that end, McQueen buried his senses in her depths. His fingers and hands caressed, dancing over the satin skin. The rough patches of scar tissue he accepted as a part of her. Strawberry and sweat accented the slightly sweet taste of her skin. To his nose Silver smelled of more strawberries, sweat, and a bit of musk. The combination of senses made him hard, but he ignored his own responses, intent only on her.  
  
Mouth sucking, licking and nibbling on one of her breasts, McQueen reveled in the feel of her hands stroking his face, neck and shoulders. One hand he danced lightly down to between her legs. Her moan of desire sent a shiver of lust straight through his body.  
  
He dipped his fingers into her dampness and grinned when she thrust against them. Easing first one finger, then two, into her, McQueen starting thrusting his hand while his mouth paid homage to her breasts. Beneath his hand, she bucked madly, demanding more. McQueen obliged, shifting his thumb so that it rubbed against the hard little nub.  
  
Minutes later, McQueen smiled broadly as his efforts paid off. He felt the muscles around his fingers contract spasmodically as her fingers dug into his shoulders, her moans of delight nonstop.  
  
Before she had recovered, McQueen kissed his way down her still quivering form and took his first full taste of her. Her mad thrusts he met, using the opportunity to delve deeply with his tongue. It only took him several minutes to drive her over the edge once more. Kissing and laving her along the way, McQueen moved back up to her mouth, where he kissed her. She started devouring his mouth and tongue in return.  
  
Slowly, feeling the need to savor the moment, McQueen entered her, her body fitting him like a tight glove. As her legs hugged his hips, McQueen buried his face in her neck, licking and kissing. Despite his attempts to keep it slow, he found himself quickening the tempo until they both rocked from the force of his thrusts. The burning fire in his body blazed hotter and hotter until he exploded, his mouth over Silver's. Their screams mingled.  
  
On his elbows above Silver, McQueen came back to himself. A satisfied smile touched his lips when he saw Silver still had not recovered. He rolled off the bed. Griffon sitting on the floor, staring at Silver, grabbed his attention.  
  
"Why are you still here?"  
  
"She's not done with me."  
  
"She is now. Go on. Get out." McQueen understood what Griffon meant. The need to punish Griffon still spurred Silver. "Go get some sleep."  
  
"You look like you could use a shower." Griffon remained sitting on the floor.  
  
"You won't leave until she says you can?" In his gut, McQueen knew the answer.  
  
Griffon nodded.  
  
"Suit yourself." McQueen headed for the bathroom.  
  
Toweling his hair dry ten minutes later, McQueen stepped out. He quickly hid a frown at finding Griffon massaging Silver's bad shoulder. "Did I-"  
  
"No." Silver cut off his question, eyes still closed. "I decided to get the benefit of his expert fingers."  
  
"Lysa, I think-"  
  
"I know what you think, Ty. I'll send him away when he finishes." Silver smiled. "I wasn't as out of it as you thought."  
  
McQueen returned her smile. "I think I understand your need to punish him. But I'd feel better if he weren't here for the rest of tonight."  
  
"He won't be."  
  
As Silver started to say something else, the alarm klaxon sounded. "Damn!"  
  
McQueen grabbed his clothes, donning them quickly. "What about you, Silver?"  
  
"I'm not cleared for duty yet."  
  
"Then I'll be on the bridge." Zipping up his flight suit, McQueen asked, "Staying here?"  
  
"Do you mind? I can always return to my quarters."  
  
"Not in the least." Sitting on the bed and tugging on a boot, McQueen gave into the urge to kiss her good-bye. "Behave yourself."  
  
"I intend to sleep."  
  
McQueen fought his way through the crowded corridors. Despite his brief delay in getting dressed, he reached the bridge before the fighter squadrons were ready to launch.  
  
Three hours later, McQueen greeted the squadron as their cockpits appeared in the docking bay. He nodded to Vansen as she stepped from her cockpit first.  
  
"Sir."  
  
"Good job. Take the squad and try to get some more sleep."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
In his quarters, McQueen found Silver sleeping alone. He stripped off the flight suit and joined her, spooning around her body. 


	12. Blood and Souls, Chapter Twelve

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Warning: Language.  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
His internal clock waking him at 0530, McQueen softly groaned and opened his eyes at the unaccustomed sensation of someone in his arms.  
  
"Problem?"  
  
After kissing her, McQueen said, "I don't want to get up. Not enough sleep."  
  
"Shall I handle the squadron?"  
  
"No. You aren't cleared for duty yet. No sense in angering the doctor." Sitting up, he ran his hand through his hair. "How soon do you think Connelly will clear you for a desk?"  
  
"Tomorrow maybe. Day after certainly."  
  
"Want to join me for breakfast?" McQueen stood and headed for the bathroom. "I'm sure Glen would like to see you up and about."  
  
"Breakfast and a shower." Smoothly, not overextending her shoulder, Silver rolled off the bed and stretched. "Going to have to reset that internal clock of yours if you want any fun before breakfast."  
  
"You're wicked, woman. Positively wicked." McQueen pulled her against him, reveling in how she fit, and kissed her again. "Going to wear what you were last night?"  
  
"Griffon brought a clean set."  
  
Holding her at arm's length, McQueen asked, "Are you finished with him now?"  
  
"Yes. I told him to leave the 'Toga by tonight."  
  
McQueen led the way into the bathroom. He discovered showering with Silver in an intimate setting was highly erotic, not withstanding the caresses she bestowed under the pretext of washing him. In the end, he lifted her up against the wall and took her under the pulsing spray.  
  
Cleaning up afterwards, McQueen wondered how many other things would be different in this relationship versus his marriage. Amy had never invited him to join her in a shower or a bath. Sex had always been a bedroom activity, never anywhere else. In the entire time of their relationship, McQueen could never remember seeing Amy's eyes smolder with passion the way Silvers could and did whenever she thought about him sexually.  
  
Once he was dressed, McQueen aided Silver in dressing. They walked companionably from his quarters and McQueen didn't care who saw them.  
  
They were five minutes late to breakfast with Ross. As they walked in, side- by-side, Ross smiled at the relaxed way McQueen moved. Silver was definitely good for McQueen. "I was beginning to wonder if I should call for the Marines."  
  
"He needs to reset his clock," grinned Silver. "Good morning, sir."  
  
"Good morning, colonels. Go get some food."  
  
The 58th straggled in a few minutes later. They gave the three officers greetings and took their own table nearby.  
  
"So, Silver, when do you think you'll be cleared for light duty?" asked Ross.  
  
"I'll be talking to Dr. Connelly later." Silver ate a few bites. "Some PT every day until the shoulder is fully healed. But I'm hoping that the doctor will let me start light duty as early as tomorrow."  
  
"So you might be able to join us on the bridge?"  
  
Silver laughed. "You know, Commodore, someone could get the wrong idea from you. But yes, I'm hoping bridge duty will be allowed as part of my light duty." She shrugged. "I know it'll be at least a month before I'm cleared for ground duty and flying."  
  
"It'll be tough on you." McQueen paused in his steady eating. "I hated the time I wasn't busy. With Marine things."  
  
"I've always hated the downtime from injuries." Silver sighed. "Fortunately, most of the time I heal quickly."  
  
"Must be handy sometimes to be what you are," pointed out Ross, with a fork. "I imagine there are times when it's a life saver."  
  
"It helped on countless other planets and on Ixion. I had most of the ones who knew what I was with me. I could scout, hunt and scavenge more freely." She toyed with her food, pushing it around the plate.  
  
"You helped us finish sooner on Ixion," McQueen said softly. "So we could get back to Deimos."  
  
"I know." Silver leaned back. "I lost a lot of good friends that time around. We lost too many good Marines as well as other personnel.  
  
"What bothers me is the thought of how many more we'll lose before this war is over." Ross pushed his empty plate away and settled into his chair. He turned his coffee mug around and around in his hands as he spoke. "Our losses have already topped six million souls when all our dead are counted."  
  
"It's closer to double that," murmured Silver. "There are lost missions you havent been told about."  
  
"Ones Griffon informed you of?" McQueen asked over his own coffee.  
  
Silver nodded. "For every mission you know about, there's at least one or more you never heard of. A lot of those had heavy casualties, if not total fatalities."  
  
"Did you lose a lot of friends?"  
  
Glancing up at McQueen, Silver answered, "Mostly acquaintances. There are far too many vampires for me to know them all personally."  
  
Draining the last of his coffee, Ross rose. "I still have to finish this damned inventory. Silver, stop by my office later and tell me what the good doctor decides."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Lysa, are you all right?" McQueen asked in a low voice, worried by the pain in her eyes.  
  
"Yes, just too many memories. Sometimes, I remember people from before. They mingle in with the dead of now." Silver shrugged. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Some activity usually drives away the ghosts. I've got a lot experience with dealing with them."  
  
"Same here." McQueen stared at his empty plate. "Sometimes, though, it's hard to do."  
  
"Yes. That's why having friends who care makes a difference." Silver rested her fingers on his wrist. "Caring friends help a lot."  
  
McQueen smiled wanly. "Yes. Unfortunately, I need to start pushing the squadron out of here."  
  
"Go on. Meet you for lunch?"  
  
He nodded, rising. "Here or the Tun?"  
  
"Here."  
  
"1200 hours."  
  
"I'll be here."  
  
McQueen fought the urge to kiss her, settling on brushing his fingers across her hand. "See you then."  
  
"If not sooner."  
  
A few minutes later, Silver watched McQueen herding the squadron out of the mess. Damn, but she loved watching him move.  
  
****  
  
She was already seated with a plate when McQueen entered the Officers Mess at five minutes to the hour. He got his food and sat down beside her. "Well?"  
  
"Cleared to start tomorrow. Desk duty and bridge."  
  
"Tell Ross yet?"  
  
"Came here from telling him."  
  
McQueen ate for a moment, and then said, "Lysa, I'm looking forward to working with you again."  
  
"Same here." Silver waited several minutes before asking, "Are you going to be running tonight?"  
  
McQueen nodded. "And using the gym."  
  
"You're welcome to stop by after you've cleaned up and eaten."  
  
"I just might."  
  
That night, McQueen showed up at Silvers quarters at 2130 hours, cleaned up and refreshed from a light meal. She let him in. He didn't leave until morning, with her by his side.  
  
****  
  
The next two weeks passed quickly. By the end of the first week, she had caught up on all of the paperwork that he had held off on finishing. Both Silver and McQueen felt an uneasiness that had nothing to do with their sexual relationship. He started pushing the squadron's training, throwing tougher situations at them in the flight simulators, forcing them to react faster and for longer periods of time. Silver helped him devise the simulations and often watched the squad as they struggled through them. Her physical therapy she scheduled for the same time they were using the gym and she often joined in, still careful of her shoulder, but desperate for the workout for the rest of her body.  
  
Often after the training runs and gym workouts, during which Ross joined in several times a week now, McQueen would go to Ross' quarters for a time. They talked sometimes, but mostly McQueen sat and listened as Ross played his guitar. Then McQueen asked Ross if Silver could join them. Ross' slow smile was all the answer McQueen needed. After that, he made sure Silver joined them nightly. When they left Ross' quarters, they would retire to either of their quarters for the night.  
  
Their lovemaking during that time grew longer, but McQueen never got around to a long, leisurely session of more than an hour at a time. They both felt intense desire and need that kept them from just taking their time.  
  
Not once during the two weeks did Silver drink from McQueen. Finally, stretched out beside her on his bed, he asked, "Lysa, why haven't you drunk from me?" His hand traced lazy circles on her firm abdomen.  
  
"You're not formally of my circle."  
  
"What must be done for me to be one?" His hand stilled, flattened against her flesh.  
  
"I must ask you."  
  
"Why haven't you asked?" He raised himself up onto his elbow to gaze into her face.  
  
"I don't want to push you into something you may not be ready for."  
  
"After all we went through, you think I'm not ready for you drinking from me on a regular basis?"  
  
"There's a commitment that comes with the asking, Ty, and with the accepting. I don't want to force you into a commitment you might not be prepared to keep for a long time." She captured his still hand and brought it up to her lips. "I want you too much to force you, Ty. I'd rather just make love to you than lose you because you weren't ready." She kissed his palm.  
  
"I made a marriage commitment to Amy and I didn't feel this strongly about her, Lysa. I thought I loved her, but it pales compared to what I feel for you. She broke off the marriage, not me. I stick by my choices, Lysa. You know that. Ask me and I will accept, fully aware of the consequences. Up to and including consort." He cradled her cheek against his hand. "I am ready."  
  
With a sigh, Silver closed her eyes briefly. "It's not time for me to ask you yet. I don't know why, but I know it's not time. I'm sorry."  
  
"Lysa, why not now? I'm ready to accept anything you ask of me." McQueen felt fear deep inside. Was she tiring of him already?  
  
"Love, I want you beside me forever. Till death do us part and all."  
  
Tears pricked at McQueens eyes at the way she could read him so easily. "I don't mean to doubt you, Lysa."  
  
"See, you still don't fully trust me. You still expect me to suddenly drop you." She sighed. "It's all right, Ty. You still need some time to adjust to all that you've learned about me." She pulled him down, kissing him tenderly, letting him feel her love.  
  
McQueen used his body, mouth and hands to express the depth of his feelings for her, hoping she'd understood it. Afterwards, she caressed his face, kissed him, and curled up around him as he sat up. He stroked her body until she fell asleep and just sat there watching her, aware that life would be empty without her.  
  
****  
  
It was the first night that Silver had joined the squadron on their evening training run. She knew that Finch had altered the difficulty of the obstacles, making it easier for her since she had to build up the strength in her shoulder again. But it felt so good to be pounding the deck at a run she didn't care.  
  
They were just finishing suiting up after their showers when the alarm klaxons went off.  
  
Ross snarled, throwing his towel aside. "Bloody hell! Silver, you're with me. McQueen?"  
  
"I'm flying this time, sir." McQueen thrust his feet into his boots.  
  
"Then get out there and bring them all home safe." Ross yanked his boots on savagely, his shirt still only half buttoned.  
  
Silver had already finished dressing. She squeezed the shoulders of the squad as they filtered past her. Stepping up to McQueen, she said softly, "We both knew it was coming. This is going to be a big one. Take care of them and yourself, Ty."  
  
Alone with only her and Ross, McQueen hesitated only a brief second. He grabbed Silver and kissed her deeply, crushing her against him. "I'll be back," he vowed. "We all will."  
  
The three strode out of the gym together. At the elevators, McQueen headed down while Ross and Silver went up to the sixth deck. The 5-8 was ready to launch as Silver slid into her seat.  
  
"Commodore, it appears to be a major Chig offensive, sir." Lt. Crowe looked up from his console. "We've got ten Hive ships on LIDAR. And so many Chig fighters the computer is having difficulty figuring out how many there are. We've counted a hundred bombers as well."  
  
"Launch our fighters," Ross commanded, aware that Silver was waiting for the order. "Call Commander Diez. Alert him to the situation and advise that he get his butt up here with the Bunker Hill and the rest of the fleet."  
  
"Yes, sir," grinned Lt. Crowe.  
  
After fifteen minutes, Silver ordered, "6-4, 5-8, move to the outskirts of the fight. Keep your eyes peeled for any other Chig vessels."  
  
Over her shoulder, Ross asked quietly, "You think there are a few Super Hive ships out there?"  
  
"At least one."  
  
"But there are no breaks in the Chig fighter patterns."  
  
"They figured out from the previous battles how we learned where they were." Silver sat back with a slight frown. She kept her voice down as she said, "Sir, I have a really bad feeling about this. I think we're going to be evenly matched, if not outnumbered."  
  
"Intelligence reports that the Chig forces have been massing four systems over."  
  
"I think this is yet another fleet. One put together to come after us in particular."  
  
"I hope you're wrong, Silver."  
  
"So do I, sir. So do I."  
  
A member of the 6-4 signaled in nearly twenty minutes later. "A Super Hive ship! To the rear! It's firing!"  
  
"Move the ships! Change every ships angle and position. Now!" bellowed Ross.  
  
The destroyer McCain took the first hit from the Super Hive ship. The plasma bolt hit forward of the engines and the destroyer was disabled.  
  
Even as a second bolt from the Super Hive ship finished off the McCain, Hawkes called in. "Another Super Hive ship to the fleets port side. Damn! That thing is really moving."  
  
"It's one of the new ones. They're faster than the first ones we went up against." Silver rubbed her forehead. "This is going to get nasty."  
  
Two hours of hard fighting by the humans resulted in three Hive ships retreating, badly damaged. But the cost was high on the human side. The fighters were fighting valiantly, but they were dying, vastly outnumbered.  
  
Another hour passed and all three human carriers, the Saratoga, the Bunker Hill and the Roosevelt, were damaged by fire from the Super Hive ships. Three more of their support destroyers were floating hulks: the Decatur, the Stout, and the Higgins.  
  
Lt. Crowe looked up from his console. "Sir, the Fitzgerald reports that shes badly damaged. Falling back to starboard."  
  
"Very well." Ross sighed. "We have no destroyers in decent shape left. Wheres the Independence?"  
  
"Off the Roosevelt's bow, sir."  
  
"And the Farragut? The Cole?"  
  
"Our rear. And beside the Bunker Hill, sir."  
  
Silver had by now been forced to combine several fighter squadrons to make them more effective. The 100th squadron now held members from two other squadrons. So far, both the 6-4 and 5-8 had managed to remain intact.  
  
Three hours later and Silver had combined the remnants of another four squadrons to make up the 25th. By now, the Cole sat off the Saratoga's port side, trying to intercept fire from the Hive ships aimed at the carrier.  
  
"Colonel, we need to get rid of one of those damn Super Hive ships." Ross stalked back and forth behind Silver, his brow furrowed, chewing on his cigar.  
  
"I know, sir. I'm working on it." Silver continued coordinating an attack formation using torpedoes from the badly damaged Farragut and the Saratoga as well as fighter squadrons. She hoped to take out the Super Hive ship to the rear of the Saratoga or at least force it to withdraw.  
  
Watching the LIDAR over her shoulder, Ross studied what she was doing. After several minutes, he remarked quietly, "That's going to leave us exposed to that other Super Hive ship."  
  
"I'm going to pull some of the fighters off the one we're targeting and send them after the other one. With luck, that will draw off some of the Chig fighter cover and allow enough of the missiles to get through that we drive it off. It's a calculated risk, sir. I don't see any way around it."  
  
"Neither do I. Go ahead."  
  
"Yes, sir." Silver activated the links to the fighters. "6-4, 5-8, disengage and attack the Super Hive ship to the port side of the Saratoga. Draw as many fighters from the Toga's rear as possible."  
  
"Roger, Toga Control." McQueen's voice was rock steady.  
  
Silver closed her eyes briefly.  
  
"He'll be fine, Silver," murmured Ross for her ears only.  
  
Silver nodded.  
  
"Gunnery sergeant, make sure those torpedoes are programmed to run to our rear starboard quadrant," growled Ross, unhappy with the way the battle was shaping up. To Silver, he asked, "Do you think the Farragut will hold together long enough to get a second salvo off?"  
  
"Yes, sir. That destroyer will manage. It's the Cole I'm worried about. Spit and bailing wire are all that are holding her together." Silver shook her head. "Captain Porter already evacuated most of her personnel to the Bunker Hill."  
  
"Dammit! When we will get the support vessels we need out here?" Ross gripped the railing tightly. "All right. Continue with your plan, colonel."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Ten minutes passed before Silver had the ships in the position she wanted. Using visual reports from the fighters, she had programmed in the targets location. "Ready, sir."  
  
"Fire."  
  
The gunnery sergeant repeated the order.  
  
The missiles leaving their racks sent shudders through the Saratoga. The laser batteries sent waves of fire toward the area of the Super Hive ship with the hope of taking out enough fighters between the missiles and the target that the missiles would reach their goal.  
  
"Port Super Hive ship firing," reported West.  
  
"Understood, King of Hearts." Silver switched channels. "All fighters between the Saratoga and the rear Super Hive ship disengage. Missiles incoming."  
  
Two minutes later, the plasma bolt from the Super Hive ship slammed into the Saratoga amidships.  
  
"Get her back into position for firing again," barked Ross. "How is the reloading coming, Gunnery Sergeant?"  
  
"Almost ready, sir, another minute or two. That hit knocked some missiles off their racks."  
  
"Forget them. Fire what we have ready once were in position."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Toga Control, this is Queen Six. 5-8 and 6-4 headed back into the fray. Looks like you could use a bit more support."  
  
"Negative, Queen Six."  
  
"We'll draw off some more of the fighters. Give you a better chance to hit it."  
  
"Negative, Queen Six. Keep that port ship engaged."  
  
McQueen made no response and Silver watched as both squadrons joined the tangle of lights to the Saratoga's rear starboard quadrant. "Damn the man. Stubborn tank."  
  
"That he is," agreed Ross quietly from her shoulder.  
  
"Firing second salvo, sir," reported the gunnery sergeant.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Incoming again, Saratoga," reported Captain Porter's husky voice through heavy static. "We're moving to block."  
  
"Negative, Cole," Ross insisted through his own headset. "We can take the damage. Stay out of the way, Porter."  
  
Static filled both Ross' and Silver's headsets.  
  
"I don't think they received you, sir. Their radio has been intermittent the last hour." Silver sighed.  
  
The Cole exploded in a fireball that peppered the Saratoga's hull with debris three minutes later.  
  
"Damn. What a waste of lives." Ross head hung down for a few seconds. With a heavy sigh, he glanced up. "Are we ready for the third salvo?"  
  
"Thirty seconds to go, sir."  
  
Ross glanced at Silver. "Send to the destroyers Hamilton and Burke. Tell them to prepare to pick up life pods. Start evacuating personnel from the lower levels."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Even as she organized the evacuation, Silver kept her eyes on the LIDAR, ferreting out the Super Hive ships locations using logic and intuition. She corrected the next torpedo firing, using the input fed to her by McQueen. The fourth salvo on its way, she turned her attention back to the evacuation waiting for the timing of the fifth salvo until McQueen made another report.  
  
"Incoming," she announced calmly. "Helm, rotate thirty degrees to port."  
  
"Aye."  
  
The Saratoga rocked hard under the blow.  
  
"We've lost the starboard launch bays, landing bays, and transport bays, sir," reported Lt. Crowe, wiping blood from his cheek.  
  
"Understood."  
  
"Sir, all non-essential personnel are evacuated. Port docking bays, engine rooms, torpedo bays, and weapons bays are manned by volunteers." Silver glanced at Ross who nodded.  
  
"Only volunteer personnel on the bridge," Silver announced. No one rose to leave. "Bridge manned by volunteer crew, sir."  
  
"Understood. And thank you."  
  
"Incoming." Silver leaned over the gunnery sergeant's shoulder. "Adjust firing seven degrees up the elliptic. Helm, port ten degrees."  
  
"Aye."  
  
"Weapons, fighters incoming." Silver tapped the gunnery sergeant's shoulder. Covering her mike, she said, "If we have to evacuate the bridge, take the commodore out of here."  
  
"He won't go."  
  
"He won't have a choice."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Good."  
  
From the center of the command center, Ross growled, "Take those fighters out of my sky, people."  
  
The plasma bolt hit and the Saratoga spun violently, showing her front end to the Super Hive ship that had been pounding her. As Ross snapped orders to turn the massive carrier, Silver studied the LIDAR as she listened to McQueens voice relaying more information.  
  
"Sir, main engines dead."  
  
Silver closed her eyes, resigning herself to the inevitable. With a calmness born of surety, Silver moved up to stand beside Ross. "Double incoming, sir. The superstructure will be hit. Time to evacuate the bridge, sir."  
  
"I'm staying."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, but you aren't." The blow to the back of his skull stunned Ross. As she lowered him to the deck, Silver whispered in his ear, "He can't lose both of us. Take care of him for me. Tell him... tell him I love him."  
  
Standing up, she looked at the gunnery sergeant. "Sergeant, take the commodore below decks to the auxiliary control. Everyone out. Lt. Commander Douglas, would you please remain?" She met the helmsman's gaze steadily, knowing what she was asking. Once the bridge was evacuated, pressure doors would seal the bridge, preventing anyone from leaving.  
  
He nodded once, turning back to his controls.  
  
Alone in the command center with Douglas, Silver started issuing what she figured would be her final orders. "Weapons, continue firing at available targets. Port torpedoes, fire in thirty seconds. Starboard, fire in forty five seconds."  
  
Her hands on Douglas' shoulders, she said, "Once the port torpedoes have fired, roll the ship one hundred and eighty degrees. With luck, we'll take out one of the bastards."  
  
"Aye, ma'am. And ma'am, it's been a pleasure."  
  
"Same here, Douglas."  
  
Silver threw open the channel to the rest of the fleet. "All fighters, this is Toga Control. I'm transferring coordination of the battle to the Roosevelt. Commander Perry, take care of them. They're the best weve got."  
  
Narrowing her broadcast to the 58th's radios, Silver said, "Queen Six, take care. Love you all. Queen of Clubs out."  
  
Even as McQueen's anguished howl rang over the headset, Silver turned it off. "Douglas, I intend to get you off the bridge once you've rotated the ship." Her shoulder twinged at the thought of trying to open the damned pressure doors, but she would try. "Once you've stabilized the ship, get in a pressure suit and run for the door. I'll be ready to open the door."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Such faith brought tears to her eyes. Silver strode over to the doors.  
  
The Saratoga lurched, nearly throwing her to the deck. "Keep her steady."  
  
"Aye, ma'am."  
  
She felt the firing of the port torpedoes. Staring at the door, Silver took a deep breath. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the stars spinning past. The Saratoga shuddered as the starboard torpedoes fired.  
  
"Colonel, what about you?" Douglas asked, getting into a pressure suit.  
  
"I can't open the doors and get through them. If I'm lucky, the bridge won't go completely. Send someone after the battle is over, hm?"  
  
"Colonel-"  
  
"It's all right, Douglas. Just get the hell out of here when I open these doors."  
  
With a deep breath, Silver pried her fingertips into the crack of the sliding door. Locking down on the pain her shoulder radiated, she pulled her hands apart, slowly forcing the door halves apart.  
  
Once she had enough room for him to reach through, Douglas spun the hatch wheel and pushed the hatch open. He squirmed through the opening and Silver leaped back, releasing the pressure doors.  
  
She was opening the emergency air mask cupboard when the first of the two hits she had been expecting arrived. The Saratoga reeled drunkenly and Silver slammed back against the bulkhead, cracking her head sharply. Darkness enveloped her.  
  
****  
  
"No!" McQueen's throat hurt from the raw emotion pouring forth. He saw the upper superstructure disintegrate in a flaming fireball with the second hit. Tears ran down his cheeks as he realized that he was partly responsible. She'd told him where she needed him to go, but he, in his arrogance, had thought he had known what she had in mind. If he'd kept the squad where she had wanted, the second hit might never have actually been made.  
  
Over his radio, McQueen could hear the shock, sorrow, and pain from his kids. Even as he dove to avoid Chig fire, McQueen felt responsible for Lysa and Glen's deaths. A mixture of cold rage and self-hatred flowed in, filling him entirely. "Queen 6 to Wildcards. Let's kill some Chigs."  
  
"On your wing, Queen 6," came Russell's hard voice.  
  
McQueen would never remember most of the next two hours. He took chances with his life and the lives of his squad he would never have done normally. Sanity trickled back bit-by-bit. When a Chig fighter slammed into the Saratoga's engines, crippling her completely, he knew the ship was a write- off, yet he fought determinedly to keep the Chigs from further damaging Ross' carrier. The fighting shifted away from the Saratoga and regretfully he followed, knowing he had other lives to protect. But he would return.  
  
****  
  
Dragging herself back to consciousness, Silver shivered and automatically damped the pain that radiated from her chest and abdomen. Her shoulder ached fiercely and she set that pain aside as well as the one centered along her left temple. Reaching up with a hand, she felt the stickiness of clotting blood. As she looked around the bridge, she realized that the heaters had been knocked out for the temperature had dropped to the point where her breath fogged. Emergency lighting illuminated the bridge. She floated near the bulkhead. Slowly, she reached out and grabbed one of the air masks, tucking it into a pocket. Three more went into pockets before she pushed off toward the communications console.  
  
Activating her headset, Silver asked, "Is anyone there? Any one still firing?"  
  
"Corporal Rodriguez here, ma'am. Port Laser Battery Ten. Where are you, ma'am?"  
  
"The command center."  
  
"Thought that was evacuated hours ago."  
  
"It was. I'm the only one left. How long has it been since the bridge evacuation?"  
  
"Five hours, ma'am. I'm trapped in my bay. I'm still getting air, but I guess there's wreckage outside. I can't get out."  
  
"Any idea how the battle's going?"  
  
"Took out one of those damn Super Hive ships. I think the other one retreated an hour or so ago. There's still a few of the regular Hive ships out there. The Chigs have been ignoring us for the last two hours. I haven't had a target for some time."  
  
Glancing over the status of the Saratoga, Silver knew why. Engines dead, most of the torpedo bays damaged, the Saratoga's fangs had been drawn and she was going nowhere. She saw that the majority of the thrusters were intact. "So the fight is still going on?"  
  
"Yes. I can see the firefight. I think the Roosevelt is still there. I don't know about Bunker Hill. And I haven't been able to access any outside lines."  
  
"Any other internal lines?"  
  
"I had the auxiliary control for a while. Then a Chig ran into the ship near me and I haven't been able to contact them again. There are a few of us stuck in the Port Batteries. I can make contact with them, but they can't contact anyone else."  
  
"Let me see if I can contact anyone else, corporal."  
  
"You won't forget about us, will you, ma'am?"  
  
"No, Rodriguez. Give me about ten mikes, ok?"  
  
"No sweat."  
  
Smiling sadly, Silver started flipping through channels. Dead air greeted her on most of them. She discovered that four of the Starboard Batteries were still manned. Auxiliary control didn't respond to her hails and she could only pray that Ross had made it to safety. Two Starboard Torpedo Bays were still manned, but they had no targeting information, the same for three Port Torpedo Bays. Biting her lip, she activated outside communications.  
  
A sob of relief escaped on hearing McQueen's voice. Rage and hatred, coldly controlled, he continued the battle. "Queen Six," she sent on all outside bands.  
  
His voice continued issuing orders. The Saratoga had no outside communications. Tears ran from her eyes as she heard one by one the rest of the 58th speak, the anger in their voices audible.  
  
She made contact again with Rodriguez. "Silver here. Well, we've got some company on the other side of the ship."  
  
"Colonel, there's a Hive ship coming up on our rear quarter. Shall we commence firing?"  
  
"No. Let them get closer. Let's take them out at point blank. We've nothing to lose."  
  
"Aye, ma'am. I'll pass the word."  
  
Silver contacted the Port Torpedo Bays and told them to load the racks and prepare to fire on her command. Then she told the Starboard Torpedo Bays the same thing and alerted the Starboard Batteries. As she talked to them, she sat down in the helmsman's chair, searching out the instruments. She found the pitch, yaw and roll indicators as well as the elliptic plane indicator.  
  
"All right, Rodriguez, can you see the Hive ship?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"What section are you located in?"  
  
"J section." Just to the rear of amidships.  
  
"And the others?"  
  
"Two in K and one in L". Even further to the rear.  
  
Silver closed her eyes, picturing the location of the Port Torpedo Bays still operational. One was in section J and the other two were in section M, even further back. "Would you say that the Hive ship is close to section M?"  
  
"Definitely."  
  
"I'll get back to you." Switching channels, Silver asked, "Port Torpedo Bays Six and Seven, do you have a visual on the enemy?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Starboard Torpedo Bays Seven and Eight, prepare to fire once you have a lock on the enemy. Starboard Batteries Ten through Thirteen, prepare to fire at will. Port Torpedo Bays Six and Seven, fire."  
  
Once she felt the shudder of the torpedoes, Silver fired the Saratoga's port thrusters, rolling the ship back to its original position. Fire from the starboard laser batteries tore into the Hive ship as it started to come into their view. The starboard torpedoes sped away and Silver fired the starboard thrusters, feeling the ship responding sluggishly.  
  
Fire from the Hive ship peppered the bottom of the Saratoga, tearing deep inside, blowing out more launch bays.  
  
The port-fired torpedoes hit their target, followed seconds later by the starboard torpedoes. Explosions ripped the Hive ship apart.  
  
"Chig fighters coming in."  
  
"All laser batteries, fire at will. Good work, people. That's one less Hive ship to bother the fleet."  
  
"Saratoga, come in."  
  
Silver closed her eyes against the hope in McQueen's voice.  
  
"Dammit, we have people still alive aboard the 'Toga. Two more Hive ships converging on her. 5-8, 6-4, take out the fighters. Commander Perry, we need cover fire."  
  
"Sorry, Queen Six, but we're barely holding our own as it is. The 'Toga will just have to fight her own battles."  
  
A pause, then, "All Toga fighters, this is Queen 6. I'm asking for volunteers to defend her and our people."  
  
A deafening roar over the channel.  
  
"Thank you, Roosevelt, for the rearming and refueling. We have comrades to save," stated McQueen.  
  
"Damn you, Queen 6. We need you."  
  
"The 'Toga needs us more urgently."  
  
'Port Torpedo Bay Eight here, bridge. We have a lock on a Hive ship. Shall we fire?"  
  
Silver nodded as she said, "All weapons bays, fire at will. Be warned that we will soon have fighter cover. Watch out for our guys, ok?"  
  
"Roger that, bridge."  
  
For the next two hours, Silver took reports from the various weapons bays and used them as her eyes to try and spin the Saratoga in order to minimize the damage and casualties. The fighter escort finally drove off the second Hive ship, the first one having been damaged by a torpedo from one of the starboard bays and finished off by a port torpedo and fighters.  
  
Exhausted, Silver slumped back into the helmsmans chair as she heard the report that the Chigs were retreating from the battle.  
  
"Silver, are you there?" She could hear the desperation in McQueen's voice.  
  
Swimming over to the communications console, she saw it was a signal directed only at the 'Toga. Unfortunately, she still had no way of communicating with McQueen. Then she cursed her tiredness. "Rodriguez, do you have a clear field? No one about to fly through your area?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Set the lasers to short duration. Fire twice."  
  
"Roger."  
  
She listened.  
  
"Queen 6, a port laser battery just fired twice. Malfunction?" Phousse sounded puzzled.  
  
"Silver, two, one. Yes, no."  
  
"Rodriguez, two, one."  
  
"Roger."  
  
"Thank god, Lysa."  
  
She smiled at the sound of relief.  
  
"She's alive, 5-8. Are you on the bridge?"  
  
"Rod, two."  
  
"Are you alone?"  
  
"Two."  
  
"You got Ross off the bridge?"  
  
"Two."  
  
"Do you know-"  
  
"One."  
  
"Obviously there are others alive. Dont worry. We'll get teams aboard. Are you hurt?"  
  
"Two."  
  
"Look out your view port."  
  
Silver pushed off from the communications console and brought herself to a halt before the view port. A Hammerhead floated, cockpit pointed toward her. She raised her hand and pressed it to the glass, smiling wistfully at McQueen. The cold ate into her hand and she realized that the temperature had continued to fall. Wrapping her arms around her torso, she watched as one by one the rest of the squadron slowly passed by, cockpits toward her. They were all there. Tears ran down her cheeks.  
  
"Is the temperature dropping?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"How cold? Forty?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"Thirty?"  
  
Considering how cold she felt, Silver nodded slowly.  
  
"Below freezing?"  
  
She shrugged.  
  
"Hang in there, Lysa. A transport's on the way from the Colin Powell. They'll be here in fifteen mikes. They'll get you out of there. Are the others losing warmth?"  
  
With some difficulty, her mouth having suddenly developed a stutter, Silver contacted the various weapons crews. They all had air and warmth. She shook her head.  
  
"Just you. Figures. Is there a pressure suit you can get in? It should have some warmth factor."  
  
She did not want to move away from the view port.  
  
"Lysa, find something to keep you warm. Please."  
  
Slowly, she pushed away from the view port, headed for the pressure suit locker. As she struggled into a suit, her fingers continually fumbled and she knew the cold had sunk deep inside her during the last seven hours. Once the final catches had been secured, she activated the heater and pushed off toward the view port.  
  
"That's better."  
  
She hung before the view port, letting her eyes drink in the sight of her love.  
  
"I was so furious when you signed off. No, I was torn apart, Lysa. I knew you saw your death was only mikes away. I never felt despair so deep before. It reached out and tried to drag me down into it. I nearly succumbed, but my rage pulled me out. I had to make your death mean something."  
  
Despite the heat from the pressure suit, Silver found it hard to keep her eyes open. Sleep drew her downward.  
  
"Lysa, don't sleep! Please, stay with me. Don't you dare die on me now!"  
  
Forcing her eyes open, she locked her weary gaze on his sapphire eyes. She said, "I love you." Her eyes drifted shut.  
  
"Lysa! Please, I love you too much to have you die."  
  
The sheer urgent desperation wrenched her eyes open for several more minutes. She could see his frustration at not being able to get to her.  
  
"The transport's almost here. Please, stay awake."  
  
"Colonel, talk to me," came Rodriguez voice.  
  
"Tired." The word came out slurred.  
  
"Did you make contact with the fighters outside?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Come on, colonel. Do they know about us? Is anyone coming to free us?"  
  
"Yes. Yes."  
  
"Silver, are you talking to someone on the 'Toga?" McQueen's forced calm voice reached out to her.  
  
She nodded slightly, drained by the motion..  
  
"Keep talking. Please. I need you too much. Don't stop fighting." She could hear the pleading in his voice even as her eyes drifted closed.  
  
"I'm so tired, Rod."  
  
"Colonel, they won't find us in time if you go to sleep."  
  
Duty. Something about duty stuck in her mind. Duty and love. McQueen. Love and duty. McQueen. Love and duty. Rodriguez. McQueen. She had to do her duty to both. The duty of her rank and position for Rodriguez. The duty of love for McQueen. To leave him now would destroy him.  
  
Clawing her way back to awareness, Silver opened her eyes and saw McQueen's frantic face as he begged her to open her eyes.  
  
His hands pressed against his canopy. "Lysa, I thought I'd lost you there."  
  
"Colonel, are you there?"  
  
"Yes, Rod. I'm here. Keep talking to me." She forced herself to move. As her blood circulated, some temporary alertness returned to her.  
  
"The transport's only mikes away, Lysa."  
  
"Rod, a transport will be here soon." Her voice came stronger, firmer, as her feet slowly made contact with the deck and some weight returned.  
  
"Good. I would really like to get out of this damn chair."  
  
"Silver, do you know if there's pressure outside the command center?"  
  
She shrugged.  
  
"All right. They're going to attach an airlock to the superstructure on Deck Seven. If there's pressure, they'll climb up to you. Otherwise, they'll shift and attach to the command center directly."  
  
Silver nodded.  
  
"I have to move now, so the transport can get in. Hang in there, love."  
  
"Rod, the transport is there. They're going to try and get me out of here before I freeze to death."  
  
"Just let them know where we are, colonel."  
  
"I will. Don't worry."  
  
Despite the heater, Silver shivered. She felt as though her interior was ice.  
  
Noise from the command center entrance made Silver turn her head several minutes later. The pressure doors slowly opened. Figures in pressure suits hurried onto the bridge.  
  
"Col. Silver, my name is Lt. Harris." The female voice sounded husky over the internal intercom. "Col. McQueen said you knew where more survivors are."  
  
Her vision narrowed to just a point on the lieutenant's pressure suit name tag. Silver spoke rapidly, aware she was losing the battle for consciousness. "Port Torpedo Bays Six and Seven, Starboard Torpedo Bays Seven and Eight, Starboard Batteries Ten through Thirteen. Oh, and Port Battery Ten."  
  
"Jackson, did you get all that?" Harris asked.  
  
"Yes, lieutenant."  
  
"Good. Colonel, can you walk to the transport? It's one level down."  
  
Silver shook her head, feeling darkness sliding over her.  
  
The suddenness of Silver's collapse took Harris by surprise and she barely managed to catch Silver before the colonel's dead weight hit the deck.  
  
"Get those medics up here on the double!" bellowed Harris. "Daniels, start finding out what's wrong with the heaters up here and fix them."  
  
Holding the Toga's savior in her arms, Harris knew they were running out of time. Through the colonel's visor, she could see the ice-cold pallor of the other woman.  
  
****  
  
As the transport with the first batch of survivors from the Saratoga landed on the Colin Powell, McQueen waited impatiently outside the landing bay. Behind him ranged the 5-8, equally worried.  
  
Once atmosphere filled the landing bay, McQueen slammed open the hatch, the 5-8 on his heels. The first ones off the transport were rescue personnel. Next came a few stretchers accompanied by two medics, but McQueen knew she wasn't on them. Then came a stretcher piled with thermal blankets with two medics pacing beside it. One held an oxygen mask over the face.  
  
"Don't jostle the stretcher, dammit!" snarled one of the medics. "We don't want to send her into arrhythmia."  
  
"Silver!" McQueen lunged for the stretcher.  
  
Arms wrapped around his body, restraining him, keeping him from his objective. He struggled futilely; his captors were as strong as him.  
  
Behind the stretcher came others on their feet. Those who knew Colonel McQueen gaped at the uncharacteristic behavior exhibited by the frantic man. One man in particular shook his head and slowly approached. Commodore Ross sighed as he saw how desperate McQueen appeared.  
  
"Colonel, no! Wait. Let them help her first."  
  
Vansen's voice penetrated McQueen's intense need to wrap his arms around Silver and carry her himself. He slumped in the grips of his squad.  
  
"Come on, Ty. We'll wait in Sickbay together." Ross' voice sounded weary.  
  
McQueen wrenched his head around and stared at Ross. Then as the hands holding him loosened, McQueen wrapped his friend in a bear hug. "I thought I lost you both for a while there."  
  
"She stunned me and had me dragged down to auxiliary control. Told me to take care of you." Ross hugged his friend back, grateful to be alive. "Now, let's follow Silver down to Sickbay and I'll tell you as much as I know about what's happened and her condition."  
  
McQueen held Ross at arm's length for several seconds before releasing him. As they walked through the corridors, he drank in the sight of his friend, aware that his kids still followed.  
  
"You saw the damage to the 'Toga?"  
  
"Yes. She's in bad shape. It's a miracle that she's still operational in any capacity." McQueen shuddered as he remembered the superstructure, torn away from the fifth deck and up. Only a miracle had kept the command center intact, but the heat had been leached out. The Saratoga's underbelly had massive chunks torn out as did her sides. The engines were blown to pieces. "Do you think that they'll junk her or rebuild her?"  
  
"They'll have to rebuild her. We need carriers too desperately. What we don't need is another Chig assault here now." Ross rubbed his face wearily as he walked. "We lost communications with most of the ship less than an hour after we transferred to the auxiliary bridge. From what I learned talking to several of the other survivors, a Chig fighter slammed into the ship, severing most of our communications. Then about twenty mikes later we lost the whole works. Overstressed relays most likely. My poor ship."  
  
"Are you all right, Glen?" McQueen did not see any obvious signs of injuries.  
  
"Yes. Just minor scrapes and bruises." Ross looked inward for a second. "Fortunately, our air was never cut off."  
  
McQueen nodded.  
  
"I thought Silver was dead, too, Ty." His voice low, Ross squeezed his friend's arm. "I felt that first hit followed so closely by the second, I was sure of it, I thought Douglas was too. He stayed behind with her. Only she got him out apparently. He's somewhere behind us. They found him on the seventh deck. Then when the ship started spinning, I knew one of them was still alive. I could feel the ship firing torpedoes and lasers... God, I wanted back on my bridge so badly. I wanted in on the last ditch fight. But I was trapped. There was nothing I could do to help. We were completely blind down there."  
  
"They took out another pair of Hive ships."  
  
"Good for them. When I find out everyone involved, I'm putting them in for awards. They were all volunteers. I evacuated the rest." Ross sighed. "Silver refused to go. She knew someone needed to stay to coordinate to the very end."  
  
"I know she's injured. There was dried blood on the left side of her face." McQueen grimaced. "When the 'Toga stopped its coordinated attacks, I figured I'd lost you both. I just hoped it was quick. Then when the 'Toga started spinning and launching coordinated attacks, I knew one of you was alive. I just had no way of telling which one."  
  
"Ty, the medics are really worried. Her body temperature is really low. There are some internal injuries and a rather nasty crack to the head."  
  
"She'll pull through, Glen."  
  
In the Sickbay waiting area, both Ross and McQueen were ushered to seats. A nurse gave Ross a quick going over and decided that he was relatively uninjured. Silver had been whisked into a room and a number of doctors and nurses were going through the doors in both directions. Finally, after nearly thirty minutes, an older male doctor approached.  
  
"Gentlemen, I believe you are waiting for word on Colonel Silver."  
  
"Yes." McQueen stood up immediately.  
  
"Sit down, please, Col. McQueen. I am Dr. Patterson. Col. Silver is currently unconscious. The internal injuries have been repaired and the cracked ribs have been taken care of. The damage to the brain on the other hand, we don't dare touch."  
  
"Damage to the brain?"  
  
"Yes, Colonel. She took what appear to have been several severe blows to the left side of her head. The brain has swollen and our scans indicate some damage. Whether it will repair itself or not, we don't know at this time. The brain is a tricky organ. Seemingly minor injuries can cause irreparable damage, and blows you'd think would destroy entire sections, have no serious effect. We're still working on bringing her core body temperature up. She had dropped to 20 degrees."  
  
When both McQueen and Ross stared at him, he said, "Sorry, I took my medical training in Europe. I keep forgetting that you're still using the old standard of measurements. Twenty degrees Celsius converts to roughly sixty-eight Fahrenheit. Very, very low. We're doing everything we can to raise her core temperature, but we have to do it slowly. When I left, we had her up to twenty-two, which would be," he wrinkled his forehead as he made the conversion, "almost seventy-two. We're not equipped for dealing with such a severe case of hypothermia, gentlemen. So bear with us if it takes us a while."  
  
"Is there anything we can do?" asked Ross.  
  
"Pray, gentlemen. Pray that the extreme cold prevented substantial brain damage. Pray that her heart can take the stress it's currently under and doesn't just stop. Pray that no one accidentally jostles her, sending her heart into cardiac arrest. Pray for whatever you can think of, up to and including that the Chigs don't come back to finish the job on this fleet. Severe maneuvers by this ship would cause her undue stress and could kill her at this stage. Until we have her body temperature up to at least 27 degrees, um, lets see, thats just over eighty, she is in extreme danger."  
  
McQueen clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. "Can I see her?"  
  
"I'm afraid not. The nurses in there need to pay constant attention to her." Dr. Patterson sighed. "Now, please excuse me. I have other patients to take care of."  
  
"Thank you, doctor." Ross could see McQueen's dazed look. "Come on, McQueen. Let's find a place to crash." He steered McQueen away from Sickbay, gesturing with his free hand that the squadron follow.  
  
Several minutes later, McQueen stopped, wrenching his arm free. "No. I... Theres something I have to do." He spun on his heel and strode off.  
  
Hawkes said, "I'll stay with him, Commodore." He trotted off after McQueen, determined to stay with the older man.  
  
"Come on, Captain." Ross started walking again. "Let's find a place for us to sleep."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
****  
  
Hawkes lost McQueen. He played a hunch and smiled gently when he saw it paid off. In the rear of the ships chapel sat McQueen, head bowed, hands clasped tightly together. Watchful, knowing the colonel needed privacy; Hawkes stood guard, mentally closing his ears to the mumbled words spoken.  
  
"Please, Hakur, don't take her away. Let her come back to me. Jalke, I still need to convince her that I'm ready. Please..." Desperate not to lose Silver before he had convinced her to accept him, McQueen prayed to the only ones he felt might help. From what Jean had told him nearly a month before, Hakur and Jalke took an active role in many vampires lives. He could only hope they would accept his pleas, for he knew that was what his words were. He was begging for Silver's life to be given back.  
  
At long last, McQueen ran out of words and just sat there, his mind blank of everything but his need.  
  
"Sir."  
  
The soft word penetrated McQueen's mental fog. He raised his head and saw Hawkes. Saw an exhausted, hungry young man who refused to leave his side. "Yes, Hawkes?"  
  
"Si'r, its been a long time since you ate or slept. Don't you think we should find the others and see if they found us a place to stay?"  
  
Rising stiffly, McQueen gave an approving nod. He had other duties to attend to. "Yes, Hawkes. Let's do that." His own exhaustion pulled at him.  
  
****  
  
Warmth. What a delicious sensation, thought Silver. Various aches and pains made themselves known. Dull aches centered around her left temple and ribs. From her right shoulder she felt the unmistakable feeling of pulled muscles.  
  
She opened her eyes slowly. Slumped on the bed, head on folded arms, lay McQueen, sleeping. Worry and fatigue lined his face.  
  
"About time he slept." Hawkes stepped into view. "Hi, colonel."  
  
"Hi, Hawkes. Where are we?" She rested her hand lightly on McQueens head, her thumb rubbing his temple.  
  
"The Colin Powell. It was the closest Sickbay they could get you to."  
  
"So the 6th Fleet showed up at last?"  
  
"Yes. Their arrival sent the last three Hive ships running." Hawkes stretched. "The colonel... he's been worried. We all have."  
  
"I'm getting tired of waking up in the hospital."  
  
"Shouldn't have been a soldier, then." Hawkes grinned. The grin faded. "We nearly lost you. The doctors said you nearly froze to death."  
  
Silver nodded, remembering the feeling of ice in her chest. "I can believe it. Did they get the others out?"  
  
"Yes, including the commodore. He's in another meeting with the leaders of the 6th Fleet. He had to stop taking the colonel." Hawkes gave his sleeping superior a soft smile. "He hasn't really slept in the last four days. I'd guess maybe a grand total of four to five hours in short catnaps. The commodore finally told him to stay here." Hawkes shrugged. "Every time I checked in, he was awake. He kept looking more exhausted. The only reason he ate was the doctor threatened to admit him and lock him in a different room."  
  
Silver smiled. When McQueen stirred, she said softly, "It's all right, Ty. Sleep. You'll see me when you wake up. Sleep. Rest."  
  
With a heavy sigh, McQueen settled back into sleep.  
  
"No one else has been able to calm him down." Hawkes debated on what he wanted to say. "Colonel, don't tell him this, but he went to the chapel and prayed for you. To Hakur and Jalke."  
  
"Oh, Ty," Silver whispered. She looked up at Hawkes, seeing the exhaustion still in his eyes, despite the apparent level of energy. "What about you and the others? Are you taking care of yourselves?"  
  
"Considering we're bunked in with the 6-4 and the 2-5. Most of our fighters are here on the Colin Powell. The commodore said that the 'Toga is going to be repaired. A couple of tenders are already working on her."  
  
"Good. The old girl is still worth a few more battles."  
  
"She's in bad shape, Silver. Missing nearly half of her underside and the upper five decks. They'll be rebuilding a lot of stuff. Until then, I don't know where we'll be staying."  
  
"It'll be taken care of." She glanced around; surprised that she was in a private room. "I would have thought there would be at least one other patient in here. Room must be limited."  
  
"I think they consider the colonel another patient. So..." He shrugged.  
  
"The room has two occupants. You look like you could do with some more sleep yourself."  
  
"It is sort of hard to sleep when it's two to a bed with a third person waiting to use the bunk."  
  
"I can see that. Why don't you stretch out here? There's plenty of room on the floor. Then you can send one of the others in when you wake up."  
  
"Do you mind?"  
  
"I wouldn't offer if I minded. Go on. Get some sleep."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Hawkes threw himself down onto the floor and was sound asleep in a moment.  
  
Silver dozed off. She woke up when the sound of the door swinging open reached her. Opening her eyes, she said, "Commodore."  
  
"Silver. Good to see you awake and him asleep." Moving easily, Ross stepped up beside the bed, avoiding the slumbering form of Hawkes. "Collecting a menagerie in here."  
  
"Hawkes looked as worn as McQueen."  
  
Ross did not waste time. "Thank you, Silver. You probably saved my life."  
  
"You're welcome and that was the general idea." Silver noted that Ross looked tired, but not exhausted. "Been sleeping, I see."  
  
"Between meetings. We're damn lucky that 6th Fleet showed up. If the Chigs had come back without them here..." Ross shuddered. "I don't like to think about it."  
  
"I gather that the 15th Fleet is pretty much dead in the water."  
  
"Unfortunately. The Roosevelt's main engines still work at three quarter power. The rest, well, if they have engines, they're lucky if they have quarter power. The crews of the various ships are staying on if possible to help rebuild. Some of the 'Toga's crews are back aboard."  
  
Silver reached out and gripped Ross arm lightly. "We'll survive. The 'Toga will survive. The Chigs haven't heard the last of us or her."  
  
A weak smile answered her. "They've pulled every available tender and sent them to us. But it will still be several weeks before the worst of the damage is even started on."  
  
"What about that other Chig fleet?"  
  
"They drew the 10th Fleet off. No ones heard from them. The 12th Fleet is looking for them. They may not have fared as well as we did."  
  
"It's possible." Silver sighed. "I have the feeling we got really lucky."  
  
McQueen stirred uneasily, shifting his head and body.  
  
"Sh, Ty. Go back to sleep. You know who's here. It's safe." She stroked McQueens temple.  
  
A deep breath and McQueen sank down into sleep once more.  
  
"You're the only one who can do that." Ross shook his head. "Any one else and he'd be ripping their head off. He was really worried about you, Silver. When they carried you off the transport, the squad had to restrain him."  
  
"Poor Ty." Silver looked up at Ross. "Hawkes said that you had to stop taking him to the command meetings."  
  
Ross chuckled softly. "Yes. He lost it during the second one. Well, the way he loses it. He sat there as they asked him question after question, repeating themselves. Finally, he stood up and his voice was cold as ice. He said, 'I have answered all of your questions, several times over. As I was denied access to the information that Colonel Silver brought back on that last reconnaissance mission, I cannot speculate on that information. I have given you my considered impression of the recent battle, both in writing and in person. Now, excuse me. I have a seriously injured member of my squad to check on.' And out he walked. After that, I figured he was better off here with you."  
  
Silver shared a smile with Ross over the knowledge that McQueen's uncharacteristic behavior signaled the depth of his caring. "I'm sure he was worried about you until he saw you were alive. I had no way to find out what had happened to the auxiliary bridge. So I couldn't tell him."  
  
"Silver, from what I've gathered, you pulled the bacon out of the fire. When you evacuated the command center and stayed to coordinate the firing on that Super Hive ship, you damaged it enough that the rest of the fleet was able to finish it off. If it had remained intact, I think there would have been nothing left for the 6th Fleet to save." Ross reached over to pat her arm.  
  
"I did my duty, sir. That's all." Silver closed her eyes briefly. "I was pretty certain that the one shot would take out the upper superstructure. I lost consciousness when my head hit the bulkhead. It was already pretty cold when I woke up later, and it just got colder and colder. I was too busy to realize how cold I was until the fight was over."  
  
The door opened and Doctor Patterson entered, carrying a computer pad. "Ah, awake at last I see. Good. Colonel, my name is Patterson. I'm the doctor in charge of your care. He walked around to the other side of the bed. In a lower tone of voice, he said, "I see Colonel McQueen finally went to sleep." He quirked his lips in a wry smile. "I figured it was easier to just leave him in here except when I forced him to go eat."  
  
"He is stubborn." Silver sighed. "So, Doctor, just how bad was it?"  
  
Patterson consulted his computer pad briefly. "Your core body temperature almost reached the no-return point, young lady. At one point you just stopped warming up. We resorted to warming your blood, so you have a few new scars where we had to insert some catheters."  
  
"I'll never win a beauty contest so it doesn't bother me, doctor. I'm a soldier. Scars come with the territory." She shrugged.  
  
"There was one good thing about the cold treatment. It kept the brain swelling down to a minimum for a long time. So we're confident that there's little damage done there. But if you should experience any unusual symptoms, inform a doctor immediately."  
  
"Yes, doctor."  
  
"Now, we need to keep you here for several days while you heal up from the ordeal you went through. Your body is quite traumatized at this point, so no jumping out of bed. You're going nowhere under your own power for at least another day."  
  
"I understand." Silver rested her hand on McQueen's arm. "Can I have more visitors?"  
  
"For short periods of time. If you become tired, sleep. Some food will be brought around in a couple of hours." Tucking the computer pad into a pocket, Patterson said, "Colonel, please, for everyones sake, don't play the hero."  
  
"I have no intention of doing so."  
  
"Good. Then I'll leave you for now."  
  
As the doctor left, Ross moved around to the other side of the bed and sat down in the second chair. "Silver, I'm going to be returning to the 'Toga. Once it is possible for you to be moved over, I would like you to do so, you and the rest of the 5-8. The priorities of the 'Toga are replacing the superstructure and the launching bays. That way if the Chigs return, at least she isn't as badly handicapped." Ross sighed. "She's pretty much emptied of munitions. And it will be a while before the supply ships arrive."  
  
"Glen, it might be an excellent opportunity to give some R&R to portions of the crew. The 'Toga can't hold everyone at the moment. And there are personnel who haven't had any downtime for quite awhile. Some could even return to Earth for a short time."  
  
"Like me?" Ross chuckled. "All right. I take it, though, that you would like me to schedule some time for the three of us?"  
  
"Sounds like a good idea to me." Silver yawned. "Sorry."  
  
"I'll leave. If Ty should ask..."  
  
"I know what to tell him. Go do your job and I'll do mine. Healing. When youre ready for them, the 58th will come." Silver yawned again.  
  
Ross rose, leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Take care, Lysa."  
  
"You, too, Glen."  
  
Silver drifted back to sleep, her hand back on McQueen's head.  
  
****  
  
Her hand being moved woke her some time later. She smiled at him. "You look better for the nap." A glance at the floor showed that Hawkes had already left.  
  
"Lysa, how do you feel?" McQueen stood up, running fingers through his hair.  
  
As he stretched Silver answered the worry in his voice. "I'm fine, Ty. The doctor has already been by to fill me in. So has Ross. He wanted me to let you know he's returned to the 'Toga to oversee the repair job. For now."  
  
"I'm not worried about Glen right now." McQueen kissed Silver, letting his desperation and worry show through.  
  
"A pretty rough four days for you, I gather." She caressed his cheek.  
  
"You could say that." McQueen sat on the bed. "Lysa, I don't want to live without you. I want to be a part of your life. Every part. I'm ready for whatever you ask of me, so long as it isn't continuing to wait. I wanted to die when I thought you were dead. And when the doctor told me how close to death you were, I was truly afraid. Afraid of losing you before I could tell you all of this."  
  
Silver pulled him down onto her chest and ran her fingers through his short hair. "Caring for others exacts a heavy price, love. As youve found out." She sighed softly. "If you are willing to pay that price..."  
  
"Yes." McQueen sat up, looking down at her.  
  
"Then will you be my consort?"  
  
"Yes." Quiet devotion shone in his eyes. He cupped her cheek. "I love you and I'm willing to let the whole universe know it."  
  
"Just select family and friends for now, I think." Silver grinned at him.  
  
"Does this mean that you'll drink from me now?"  
  
"Not until we can do it properly, alone and in better privacy." Squeezing his hand, she said, "Now, why don't you go find the rest of our Marine family and let them know. And call Ross. He deserves to know."  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"Go eat. You look like you lost about ten pounds. And you can't afford it."  
  
McQueen grimaced. "I didn't feel like eating."  
  
"You need to eat, Ty. Tell the trio to come see me in an hour or so, please."  
  
"You'll take from them but not from me?" McQueen frowned, hurt by the request.  
  
"The first time as consorts should be special, Ty. Not in a hospital room. Ok?"  
  
He nodded, understanding that she wanted more than to drink from him. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."  
  
"Better make it more like three. I do want to see the rest of the squad too, you know." She caressed his cheek.  
  
"All right. I'll let our kids know they can visit."  
  
"I like the sound of that. Now go on, love. I need to rest."  
  
Silver watched him depart, seeing the weary slump to his shoulders and back. "And I need you, love. Desperately."  
  
A few minutes later, the door opened and Silver glanced up to see Dr. Connelly. "Doctor, I'm glad to see you. I take it Sickbay survived the pounding the 'Toga endured?"  
  
"Barely. We ran out of everything and lost lives. Lives we could have saved, but there's nothing I can do about it now." Dr. Connelly shrugged. "Are you feeling ok?"  
  
"As well as someone who tried to become an icicle is likely to be feeling." Silver smiled. "Actually, I feel pretty good. A bit beat up, but what's new? It comes with the territory."  
  
"You do seem to be seeing the inside of a Sickbay a lot this last month or so". Connelly smiled back.  
  
"If it hadn't been for your excellent PT schedule, my shoulder wouldn't have been healed enough for me to get Lt. Commander Douglas out. There would have been two icicles on that bridge. And unfortunately, I don't think he would have survived it."  
  
"Well, thank you. I see McQueen woke up. He looked better."  
  
"He's feeling better. I sent him to convey some messages and to eat."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Is this a social visit, Doctor?"  
  
"Partly. I've been recruited by the Colin Powells head of Sickbay to help out."  
  
"But you'd rather be back in your own Sickbay."  
  
"Yes. I want to supervise the work there."  
  
"Call the commodore. He's back on the Toga. Let him decide when you can return. He wants to get as many of the crew back over there as possible."  
  
"In case the Chigs attack again."  
  
"As long as the 6th Fleet is here, I would consider that unlikely. If they hadn't shown up, though, I don't think any of us would have been here to be rescued." Silver shifted uncomfortably.  
  
"Here, let me raise the head of the bed for you."  
  
"Thanks, Doc."  
  
Connelly straightened up. "I've noticed several of the Marines calling me that. Why?"  
  
"You've earned their respect. It goes all the way back to the first World Wars. The medics in the fields were called it by the troops for their fearlessness in getting to their patients and getting them out of the action. Its a time-honored tradition now. I wouldn't mind having you along on a mission myself, doc."  
  
"Thank you, I think. I don't know how I'd handle that sort of a situation. It can be harrowing enough in Sickbay."  
  
"You'd do fine, doc, once you concentrated on the task at hand. That's all it takes." Silver yawned.  
  
"I better go. You need some more sleep."  
  
"Thanks for stopping by."  
  
****  
  
The next time Silver woke she found Russell, Finch and St. John sitting beside the bed. "Why, hello, scamps."  
  
"Are you really ok?" Finch's lower lip trembled.  
  
"Yes. I'm going to be fine."  
  
Finch flung herself onto Silver. "I was so sc... We were so... scared. Everyone. We thought you were dead." She sobbed, tears running down her cheeks.  
  
Stroking Finch's hair, Silver said, "I didn't think I would survive the hit to the superstructure. I got everyone else out, but I couldn't get out myself. So I said good-bye."  
  
"You scared the hell out of us." St. John met her eyes squarely, though his shoulders were hunched. "And you know what that takes."  
  
Silver smiled and chuckled. "Yes, I do. I'm sorry, but I didn't want to die without saying good-bye."  
  
With a jerky nod, Russell said, "I know, but man, you devastated the colonel. I really think he went nuts there for a while. I mean, nothing could touch him and he took some really insane risks."  
  
"I don't doubt it."  
  
Finch sat up slowly, wiping her cheeks. "He told us, about you asking him."  
  
"He was supposed to."  
  
"Is there anything you want us to do?" St. John had straightened.  
  
"Just be there for him, hm? You and the rest of the squad. He's going to need the support. He thinks he knows what's involved, but he really hasn't a clue."  
  
'You think he'll get a bit overwhelmed?" asked Russell.  
  
"It's possible."  
  
****  
  
By the time McQueen returned four hours later, the entire squad and a few others had visited Silver. Lt. Commander Douglas had stopped by to see how she was doing and to thank her for getting him off the bridge. He let drop that he was curious about how she had managed to pry the doors open and Silver said she couldn't tell him at this time. Several members of the 64th dropped in while visiting some other patients that they knew and thanked her for getting the 'Toga back into the fight.  
  
Silver was eating when McQueen entered quietly. Her meal had been delayed while she slept again.  
  
"They letting you eat that slop?"  
  
"Well, it isn't Earth standard, but it is solid. Mostly." Silver smiled, her fork in the mush that was supposed to be peas and carrots.  
  
Sitting down, McQueen said, "Ross says congrats and that he's working on your idea. What idea?"  
  
"R&R. Sending some troops back to Earth for a while."  
  
"And others to the Bacchus." McQueen grinned. "I see. Devious."  
  
"But first we need to get some work done on the 'Toga."  
  
McQueen's grin faded. "He wants me and the 5-8 over there in two days."  
  
"Sounds good. I suspect it'll be several days before I'm cleared from this bed, and a couple of more before I get to shift over to the 'Toga. Connelly said Sickbay was a mess."  
  
"You've seen her? Good. I didn't know if she made it or not."  
  
"She was upset about all the lives she couldn't save. She ran out of supplies. But she wants to supervise the rebuilding of Sickbay."  
  
"Ross will be glad to hear that. So when you do get back to the 'Toga, what do you think youll be able to do?  
  
"There's a lot of letters to be written."  
  
"Ross won't be looking forward to that."  
  
Silver nodded. "I can help with that."  
  
"And you'll need a pick-me-up after doing that for a while."  
  
'As long as you're it, yes."  
  
With a slight smile, McQueen sat back and waited until she finished eating. He took the tray and set it in the chair nearest the door. "Now, who do you want me to contact?"  
  
"Just my parents and Cassie. They'll take care of the rest of the family."  
  
"Is there a ceremony? Like a marriage?" He sat back down on the other side of the bed.  
  
"Yes. My parents and Cassie will want to attend. But Ross can perform the ceremony if you want."  
  
"I think we both would like that. What do I need to know now?"  
  
"Ty, it's a big step. Just like your marriage was. Only, there is no divorce. It truly is til death do us part."  
  
He nodded tightly. "I can see why. What happens if we end up hating each other?"  
  
"We have to resolve the conflict. Somehow. There is no separation. Except as work demands. But it can't be for months or even years at a time. So, no more solo deep penetration missions."  
  
"So the ceremony is going to bind us together."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"As tightly as Griffon wanted to do?"  
  
"Only if you want that."  
  
McQueen shook his head. "Everyone needs some privacy. Griffon's binding wouldn't allow for that."  
  
"True."  
  
"How much binding do you want, Lysa?"  
  
She heard the slight tremor in his voice. "A mid-level bond. One that we can strengthen as necessary. It can be useful in a profession such as ours."  
  
"So we could find one another? That sort of thing?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
McQueen nodded slowly, thinking it through. "I could live with that. Do we want to announce this to everyone?"  
  
"Well, we do have to inform the Corps that we're getting married. That way they'll be less likely to split us up. But I'll leave it up to you as to how widespread the knowledge is."  
  
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped together under his chin. "Amy couldn't take the pressure of being married to a tank. I don't have to worry about that with you. I think I can handle the pressure of being married to a vampire. So..." McQueen took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Let the whole damned universe know. I'm ready for it."  
  
Silver smiled and touched his cheek lightly. "Good for you."  
  
He rose and she saw the ever so slight proud tilt to his head. "Lysa, I'll do my best not to ever give you cause to be embarrassed or ashamed of me."  
  
"Tyrus Cassius McQueen, I will never be ashamed or embarrassed by anything you do. Up to and including dumping a glass of wine on the President during a live broadcast." When he quirked his lips in a smile, she chuckled. "Really, Ty, I mean it."  
  
"That's better than anyone has ever promised. Except for Glen promising to be my friend."  
  
"He's a real friend, Ty. Treasure him for the rest of your life. Now, how about if we see if the pair of us can stretch out here and grab some sleep?"  
  
When Patterson entered a while later, he found McQueen spooned around his patient, arms holding her securely. He checked her vitals quickly.  
  
Finished noting them in his computer pad, Patterson glanced up and saw McQueens head was raised and that he was watching. "Go back to sleep, colonel. She's fine. You both need the sleep."  
  
McQueen settled back down onto the bed and closed his eyes.  
  
Smiling, Patterson left the room. 


	13. Blood and Souls, Chapter Thirteen

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Warning: Language.  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter 13  
  
"Hush, you'll wake them."  
  
"I'm doing this as quietly as I can. Now leave me alone."  
  
McQueen remained still, eyes closed, registering that the voices belonged to Phousse and West. He also heard the rustle of paper. Curiosity prompted him to open his eyes, but the fact that they were trying not to wake them meant it was supposed to be a surprise.  
  
"Shall we play along?" came Silver's breath soft question.  
  
"Yes," he answered as softly.  
  
"Ok, that's got it. A bit crooked, but it'll have to do," whispered West. "Go get the others. Tell them to hurry. I doubt that they'll sleep much longer."  
  
"Twelve hours should be enough for anyone. Ok, ok, I'm going."  
  
"Oh, dear," McQueen heard Silver chuckle softly. "Well, you wanted to let everyone know. You're going to get your wish."  
  
Knowing she had peeked already, McQueen did the same and cracked an eye open. He suppressed a groan. A huge bAmyr that said Congratulations!' was strung across the room. Instead of an o' a red heart had been drawn complete with an arrow through it. McQueen & Silver' were written in the heart.  
  
"I'll let you wake up first when they all get here." Silver chuckled again, settling firmly against him.  
  
Shutting out the sight that awaited him, McQueen tightened his hold on Silver, head buried in her hair, breathing in her scent. She had started using a strawberry scented shampoo after her release from Sickbay, her favorite she had told him, and he enjoyed the way it smelled. A faint trace was left even after all this time.  
  
Several minutes later, McQueen heard the door open and people entering.  
  
"Everyone here?" asked West quietly. "Looks like it. I think they'll wake up soon."  
  
"With all of us in here, that's a certainty," growled Ross.  
  
"Let's not keep them waiting, hm?" Silver tightened her hold on him briefly.  
  
"Definitely." McQueen kept the charade up, stretching and slowly sitting up. He stroked Silver's cheek, pausing when he heard someone gasp softly and continuing as he turned his head to stare over his shoulder. It took all of his self-control not to smile broadly at the stunned looks on his kids' faces. Ross looked quite satisfied and pleased. To the side, Connelly nodded to him, a slight smile on her lips. Beside the doctor stood Temple, pleased as well.  
  
McQueen glanced up at the bAmyr, shuddered slightly, but turned back to Silver.  
  
She kissed his palm.  
  
"We have lots of company," he drawled softly.  
  
"Really?"  
  
Silver rolled onto her back and McQueen slid off the bed, giving her extra room, though he remained right beside the bed. He raised the head of the bed.  
  
"So I see. I believe it is a party. Complete with something to drink, if that is indeed a bottle Ross is holding." Silver chuckled.  
  
"Well, you can't have a celebration of this sort without a drink. And Dr. Patterson okayed it so long as you have no more than two." Ross held up a bottle of champagne. "This has been stashed away in my quarters for several years now. It should do just fine." He set it down on the bedside table.  
  
Squeezing McQueen's hand, she whispered, "Ask him now."  
  
McQueen nodded. "Glen, would you like to perform the ceremony?"  
  
Ross' jaw dropped. After a few seconds, he managed, "Would I? Hell, I've been waiting years for someone to want to get married so I could do it. Of course, I'd like to, Ty."  
  
"Once we've got everything figured out, we'll tell you when."  
  
Ross strode over and hugged his friend, faintly surprised when McQueen returned it just as strongly. "God, Ty, I wanted so miuch to be a part of your happiness. Thank you." Holding McQueen out at arms' length, Ross asked, "So when and where?"  
  
"Haven't finished working out all the details." Silver stretched carefully. "Open that bubbly, commodore. I hope it's nicely chilled."  
  
"I left it in the transport's airlock. I had to use a glove to carry it afterwards. It isn't quite so cold now." Ross started working on the bottle.  
  
"That's cold enough."  
  
The party lasted only an hour since they were in Sickbay. Ross, Connelly and Temple were the first to bow out, having to return to the Toga. The squadron left shortly afterward.  
  
Alone with McQueen, Silver said, "Well, everyone in both fleets will know within a matter of hours. In days, anyone in the Corps who wants to know will. As much as I care for those kids, there are times a muzzle would be useful."  
  
"I would have preferred controlling the mAmyr of announcing it, but it's out of our hands now." McQueen sighed, sitting back in the chair. "But I don't regret it."  
  
"Good. Now why don't you go eat something? There's no telling how long I'll have to wait to eat."  
  
"We still have things to discuss."  
  
"Yes, we do, but I'm too hungry to care about them right now."  
  
"All right. I'll be back in a while." He rose, kissed her and left.  
  
He returned minutes later. "Food's on the way. Enough for the both of us."  
  
"Did you manage to order room service?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
Dr. Patterson entered, followed by two nurses with a covered cart. "I've heard that there's cause for a celebration in here. So, I've arranged for a good meal for the both of you. Compliments of the Powell's chief cook. Now, if you colonel," he pointed to McQueen, "will kindly vacate the room for a short time, we'll make the other colonel a lot more comfortable."  
  
McQueen nodded and stepped outside.  
  
The various catheters and drains were removed, as was the IV. The nurses helped Silver to the bathroom and she settled back into the bed with a grateful sigh of feeling more normal.  
  
"Make sure he eats, hm? I know exactly how much he's eaten the last five days. He's lost weight and he can't afford to." Patterson gave Silver a pat on the arm. "From what I've seen, he really cares for you."  
  
"It's fully returned."  
  
"Good luck."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
As McQueen returned, Patterson said, "There's been so much hardship and death lately that I felt something special needed to be done to celebrate life."  
  
"It's appreciated, doctor."  
  
"Then I'll leave you two alone."  
  
McQueen lifted the lid on the cart and felt his hunger engage fully. Salisbury Steak with what looked like real hamburger and mushrooms, Eggs Benedict with real poached eggs, crisp tender vegetables, and what appeared to be two large chocolate muffins. Plus a small pitcher of orange juice, and a thermos of coffee, including sugar packets on the side.  
  
"I think a thank you note is definitely in order." Silver laughed softly.  
  
"Out here you tend to forget that the cooks do know how to cook real food. Unless it's before a major assault."  
  
Silver grabbed McQueen's arm and pulled him down for a kiss. "Enough of that talk. Let's eat this good-looking food. Then we'll talk some more."  
  
The food disappeared quickly, but was truly appreciated. Each saved the coffee for last.  
  
Cradling the mug in her hands, Silver settled back, ready for the discussion ahead. "What do you think we need to discuss?"  
  
"Where to start?" McQueen sat forward, elbows on knees, mug in hand. "What will be required of me as your consort?"  
  
"Love, be glad I'm not of the royal line. That it's a distant connection."  
  
McQueen stared at her. "I have a very bad feeling about that answer." He took a deep breath. "Would you care to elaborate on it?"  
  
"Father is a cousin of the current Dalian. That is our leader, not quite like a king, though the position is hereditary. Any way, we don't stand on ceremony. If you ever do meet Gregory, just treat him with respect. You don't have to bow or anything. For the most part, in becoming my consort, I don't think that there's any thing special you need to know or do." She gave him a reassuring smile.  
  
"What about other vampires?"  
  
"As my consort, no other vampire should touch you sexually without your permission. Up to, and including, Gregory."  
  
"So I can safely turn down any offers?"  
  
"Definitely."  
  
"Except for you."  
  
"Even me if you want. Even partners sometimes just aren't in the mood." Silver shrugged. "There will be times we just won't be able to, even when we want to. The war and all."  
  
McQueen gestured to the room around them. "As if I could forget."  
  
"It has been rather hard to forget lately." Giving him a soft look, Silver said, "Now I would like to talk about a few other things. Such as where do you want to get married and how would you like to dress?"  
  
"Don't really have a choice. If Ross is to perform the ceremony, it'll have to be on a Navy ship. It's the only place he has authority to do it. So we'll both have to wear our uniforms." McQueen shrugged. "As much as I would like to see you in a wedding dress, it's out of the question."  
  
"So you would like to see me in a wedding dress, hm?" When McQueen nodded, Silver smiled. "Good, because I really want to see you in a black tux." She thought there might be a few avenues she could explore. "Let's talk hypothetical for a moment, ok?"  
  
"Sure, all you like." McQueen sipped his cooling coffee.  
  
"If it could be arranged, would you be adverse to spending a few days in the wilderness with me, alone, for your honeymoon?"  
  
"How alone?"  
  
"No one within an hour's walk."  
  
"Definitely." Images flitted through McQueen's mind.  
  
She had no trouble interpreting the thoughts racing behind his eyes. "So if I could arrange it, you would be interested?"  
  
"Oh, yes." His voice grew husky. "I take it you have something in mind."  
  
"I have to make a few calls. I'll let you know what I find out."  
  
"What else did you have in mind?" Sitting back, McQueen drank some more coffee.  
  
"Would you be adverse to a planet-side wedding, flowers and all? Possibly outside?"  
  
"No. Amy rushed me to the altar pretty quickly. It was a small wedding. Ross didn't even get a chance to come."  
  
"Won't be the case this time." She drank some of her coffee, grimacing at the coldness. As McQueen reheated her coffee with new liquid, Silver asked, "What do you intend to have the squad do on the Toga?"  
  
"Helping with the rebuilding. They spent a week learning how things are supposed to run, so I thought they could give me a practical demonstration of what they learned."  
  
"Excellent idea." Silver sipped her rewarmed coffee. "Did your quarters survive?"  
  
"Both of our quarters are intact, though a bit messy. At least that's what Ross claims."  
  
"Fewer things to worry about in mine." Silver shrugged.  
  
"No one was expecting such a knock-down, drag out fight."  
  
"A fair number of folks lost their quarters. The squad?"  
  
"Their barracks survived, one of the few."  
  
"Good. At least they'll have a place to stay. When are you going over?"  
  
McQueen glanced at his timepiece. "In twelve hours. That'll make it ship morning."  
  
Yawning, Silver said, "You'd think I wouldn't be tired."  
  
"You went through a pretty trying time. You're still recovering."  
  
"So are you."  
  
McQueen rose. "Why don't I let the squad know about leaving in the morning and come on back."  
  
"There's plenty of room."  
  
****  
  
In the morning, McQueen flew the transport to the Toga, Vansen as his co- pilot. An hour after boarding and stowing their gear, the squad had taken over positions of coordination between different departments. In some cases, the majority of the department had died. Entire sections of the Saratoga still needed to be cleaned out before repair work could begin.  
  
McQueen flew the transport between the Toga and the Colin Powell. At the end of the day, he ensured that he ended up on the Colin Powell. He ate before going to Sickbay.  
  
Silver pushed her empty tray away. "Looks like it was a rough day."  
  
"We cleared out four sections today. We had to try and identify the bodies. Some were just bits and pieces, but we think all the dog tags survived." McQueen sank down in the chair, leaning forward so that his arms and head rested on the bed.  
  
"It'll get easier." She stroked his arm.  
  
"That's what I'm afraid of."  
  
"Just remember that each was a life."  
  
McQueen sighed heavily. "The 'Toga is in bad shape. Ross decided that we'll seal sections one at a time so that the bodies can be taken care of in a timely mAmyr."  
  
"Sounds reasonable."  
  
"And crews are trying to put doors on the remaining operational bays, all five of them. They are connected to the only working docking bay."  
  
"Sounds like you have your work cut out for you."  
  
"Quite." McQueen turned his head toward her. "Do you need Russell and the others to stop by tonight?"  
  
"Tomorrow night will do."  
  
"Good. I don't feel up to another flight. I really doubt I'll sleep at all tonight. It was pretty grisly work and tomorrow is more of the same. They'll be securing the dead to the outsides of the ships before any of the bodies will be consigned to the sun. The morgues are already full throughout the 6th Fleet."  
  
"Any word on the Tenth?" Silver watched his jaw tighten as he closed his eyes. "Totally gone?"  
  
"The Twelfth made it back with a third of its ships. Commodore Wilson said that the Chig Fleet, what was left of it, easily outnumbered what we faced. The Tenth never stood a chance. The only reason the Twelfth made it out was because Wilson expected to be ambushed."  
  
"Let's hope we start getting some good breaks." Running her hand over his hair, she asked, "Have you eaten?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Go shower and come on back."  
  
That night Silver held McQueen through the nightmares, soothing him and letting him sleep.  
  
****  
  
To McQueen's surprise, Hawkes was waiting for him outside Sickbay.  
  
"Thought you might like the company, sir. I caught the last transport of the previous shift." Hawkes glanced down at the floor when his stomach growled. "Have you eaten yet, sir?"  
  
"No, but if you want to go in and say hi, go ahead."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
A few minutes later, the two IVs were striding through the halls.  
  
When McQueen stepped aboard the transport he was going to fly, he received his second surprise. The entire 64th squadron, including their commanding officer, Lt. Colonel Ramsey, was aboard. Out of courtesy, McQueen motioned for Ramsey to join him in the cockpit.  
  
"Thank you, Colonel. " Ramsey settled his stocky frame into the co-pilot's seat. "I thought perhaps we could be of service aboard the Toga. The squad is getting thoroughly bored."  
  
"There's plenty to do," remarked McQueen, starting his pre-flight checks. He sensed Hawkes' presence at the foot of the cockpit entrance. "As long as you don't mind doing cleanup, running errands and performing other so- called grunt work."  
  
"I'll take anything that keeps them busy." Ramsey read off several of the items on the checklist for McQueen. He then sat quietly until McQueen had eased the transport out of the Colin Powell and set course for the Saratoga.  
  
"I hear congratulations are in order, McQueen. That you and Col. Silver are- "  
  
"Getting married? Yes." McQueen tried to keep the dryness out of his voice. Several curious people had approached him the previous day.  
  
"Congratulations then."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Ramsey rose and left the cockpit. Hawkes came up after a moment.  
  
"Everything ok, sir?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
****  
  
Every night, McQueen made it back to the Colin Powell to eat and sleep with Silver. The staff brought a second meal to her room, allowing him to eat in peace and quiet. A different member of the squad turned up every morning to accompany him back to the Saratoga.  
  
Silver's release from Sickbay was left until she could be released to the Saratoga where she had quarters to sleep in. Dr. Connelly came back to the Powell to escort Silver.  
  
McQueen flew Silver and Connelly back to the 'Toga. There Silver took over the task of composing death notifications from Ross, leaving him free to concentrate on his greater task.  
  
When dinnertime had arrived and she had not seen Ross, Silver sent runners to find the commodore and escort him back to his office. She continued working until Ross appeared twenty minutes later, tired and irritable.  
  
"What is it, Colonel?" He rubbed a weary hand over his haggard face.  
  
"You need to eat, Commodore. After you've put your John Hancock on these notices." When he stiffened slightly, Silver added, "I tried to track someone down who knew each of them so that the notices aren't so impersonal. The families will appreciate it."  
  
Ross nodded curtly. "Let's get it over with."  
  
He signed the hundred notices that Silver placed before him with dispatch. By the time he finished nearly ten minutes later, his stomach was growling.  
  
"I understand the galley is up and running at full power again, sir. Shall we go eat?" Silver rose stiffly.  
  
"A good idea. I skipped lunch."  
  
"You need to keep your strength up. Have you seen McQueen?"  
  
"He was down in Starboard Docking Bay 1 a couple of hours ago."  
  
Outside Ross' office, Silver turned to one of the Navy personnel she had been using as runners. "Track down Lt. Col. McQueen for me, please. Ask him to come to the Officer's Mess. He had been in Starboard Docking Bay 1. Then go eat and take two hours off."  
  
"Yes, Colonel." The young woman snapped a salute and trotted off.  
  
"I take it you'll be going back to work after we eat." Ross asked her.  
  
"For an hour or so. Then I'll quit for the night. Dr. Connelly said it would be all right. As long as I don't overtire myself."  
  
"McQueen would have my head if you overtire yourself."  
  
"You're safe. I have no intention of overworking." As they entered the empty elevator, Silver said, "Don't overwork yourself, Glen. You need to rest and eat regularly too." The doors shut. "If you do, then the others will follow your example."  
  
"Tired people make mistakes. I hear you, Lysa. I'll limit myself to only another three hours, then I'll go to bed, and I will try to sleep."  
  
"If you really have trouble, Russell could give you a massage."  
  
"Considering what happened the last time he gave Ty a massage, I think I'll pass."  
  
Silver chuckled. "That doesn't usually happen. He really gives great massages. Taught him myself."  
  
As the doors opened, Ross said quietly, "I'll think about it."  
  
"That's all I could ask for."  
  
They were both sitting down to their dinners of mystery meat posing as pork chops, over warmed vegetables and rock hard rolls when McQueen entered the mess. He nodded to Ross and Silver and quickly loaded up a tray with food.  
  
Sitting down opposite Silver, McQueen said, "Sorry. Lost track of time. We were trying to finish the fifth door before quitting. It was being difficult." Tapping the roll, McQueen grimaced at the hardness and shoved it into the brown gravy to soak.  
  
"Is the 64th flying the transports?"  
  
McQueen nodded once to Silver. "They took over after I brought you aboard. I think some of them felt that manual labor was beneath them. Col. Ramsey rewarded the ones who had been working hard with the flying." He cut some meat and started eating.  
  
Despite the staleness and general unpleasantness about the food's consistency, it was hot and there was more than enough for people to have seconds. The cooks' contribution to the rebuilding appeared to be keeping the troops fed hot food and plenty of it.  
  
Ross, McQueen and Silver ate steadily and hungrily. Both men went back for seconds. Finished with his food, McQueen jumped up and refilled all three coffee mugs. Setting them on the table, he asked, "So how much longer are you working tonight, Glen?"  
  
"Three hours. Then I'm going to try to sleep."  
  
McQueen gave Silver a questioning look.  
  
"No more than two hours. Then a hot shower and bed. I want to keep Dr. Connelly happy." She sipped her coffee.  
  
"Good. I want you well as soon as possible." McQueen gave Silver a hard look. "You need to take care of yourself. Especially after this last episode."  
  
"I intend to. Just remember to follow your own advice. The Chigs will come back and I want you alert enough to fight them off."  
  
"I will. And I've already given the squad standing orders to work no longer than twelve hours straight and to sleep at least eight." McQueen sighed. "If the Chigs come back, I can only hope we have some way to get the fighters off this floating hulk." He gave Ross an apologetic glance. "Sorry, but at the moment, that's what she is. We're making progress, but it's going to take weeks to get her even barely serviceable."  
  
"I know and don't apologize." Ross sighed. "I'm aiming to get her livable while repairs are going on. If we can get the majority of the hull put back on, we can build the internal structures afterwards. Except for the stuff that has to be put in before, like the computer mainframe, missile racks, and a thousand other things. I want as many people working inside as possible. We just don't have the number of space suits available to make this really work." He shook his head. "They just never imagined trying to repair a ship this badly damaged."  
  
"The Yorktown," remarked McQueen, loud enough that several people turned to look at him.  
  
Silver nodded. "Yes indeed."  
  
"The Yorktown went on to fight several more times despite being held together with spit and bailing wire."  
  
"Don't forget the duct tape." Silver grinned.  
  
"Did it exist back then?" Ross grinned back at her, then sobered. "If the Yorktown could do it, so can the Saratoga. She's not out of this war yet."  
  
"Not by a long shot. After all, she does have the Navy's best crew aboard her," McQueen stated firmly.  
  
Sitting up straight, Ross said, "That she does. And with the Marines' best pitching to help, there's no limit to what we can do." Ross saw heads nod and weary backs straighten. Lowering his voice, Ross said, "Morale boosting in the Officer's Mess. God, what a day."  
  
Pushing her chair back, Silver rose. "Good night, sir. Another two hours' work and I'm off to my quarters. See you for breakfast?"  
  
"Usual time?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Then yes, colonel. I would like the company." Ross glanced at McQueen. "And you?"  
  
"Breakfast sounds good. I'll check on the squadron before calling it a night." McQueen rose and followed Silver out.  
  
Shaking his head slightly, Ross stood up. "Listen up. I do not want people pulling double shifts. Working a couple of extra hours I will allow. I want an alert crew in case the Chigs return. I also want a ship that's been put together properly. Pass the word. I want everyone to take the time to eat and sleep regular hours. Exhaustion is as much our enemy as the Chigs. Do a good job and do it right the first time. Now I am going to follow my own orders. Another three hours and then I am quitting for the night. That is all. Good night."  
  
Ross left the Officer's Mess, his still full coffee mug in his hands. He kept his word to Silver and retired to his quarters after supervising the work in the command center for three hours.  
  
****  
  
Outside the mess, Silver waited for McQueen. "Which?"  
  
"Yours."  
  
Silver chuckled, knowing he liked the fact that her quarters were nearly empty, giving him more room.  
  
"Meet you there."  
  
"Soon." McQueen gave her a cautious nod and headed for his destination.  
  
Silver made her way to the office she was using. After two hours the notices she had gathered information for during the day, were finished. With a sigh, she locked the door, ready for some quiet time and sleep.  
  
Her quarters were still locked, but she knew McQueen was inside. Entering, she heard the shower and guessed he had beaten her only by minutes. His flight suit lay neatly folded on a chair, ready to be dropped off at the laundry. Under the chair stood his boots. In her closet she knew hung a clean flight suit from before the Chig attack.  
  
She locked the door behind her and undressed quickly. "Room for another body?" she asked from the bathroom door.  
  
"By all means."  
  
McQueen pulled her to him under the hot pulsing spray, kissing her hungrily, letting her feel his need and desire for her. When he finally broke off the kiss, he still held her tight to him. "I've wanted to do that since I saw you in the landing bay. Are you all right?"  
  
"I'm fine," she said, drinking in the smell of him, her arms wrapped around his chest as tightly as his hold was on her. Pressing her lips to his throat, Silver felt a tremble course through him.  
  
"Lysa? Will you drink from me tonight?"  
  
There was a breathless quality to his voice that made her pull back and look him in the face. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes." Hungry desire flared in his eyes.  
  
"All right." She caressed his jaw. "But not a deep one. I've already fed. Finch and St. John stopped by during the day."  
  
McQueen kissed her again. "Can we... I mean, is it all right if we-"  
  
"Yes. As long as we aren't too energetic." She grinned at him.  
  
Two hours later, Silver snuggled into McQueen's side on the bed, content. McQueen had taken his time, ensuring that they shared a mutual good time. She had timed her drinking just right, sinking her fangs in close to the point of his climax. Seconds later, McQueen had slid over the edge. A leisurely shower afterward and they had settled into bed.  
  
From the relaxation of his body, Silver guessed that McQueen had already slipped into sleep. She ran a hand up from his thigh, over the smooth abdomen and to the muscled chest, enjoying the feel of his body.  
  
"Trying for a third run tonight?" rumbled McQueen.  
  
"No. Just enjoying the sensation of touching you."  
  
"Hm. Well, if you keep that up, I'll have to take a cold shower."  
  
"Like there's any hot water left?" Silver chuckled. "I think we used up both our rations for the day."  
  
"So what? There's fewer people aboard than normal. And you're still recovering. You need a larger hot water ration for a while yet."  
  
"Trying out arguments to rationalize it, are you? Better watch it. Someone might think you were losing the proper reverence for protocol."  
  
"Losing it, nothing." McQueen snorted and slid an arm under her to hold her tight. "It's going to be hard sometimes to remember to keep my distance. Who am I kidding? It's hard now."  
  
"We will both manage just fine. Military couples have been doing it for years."  
  
"How many of them were tanks?" Bitterness tinged his voice.  
  
Silver rose on an elbow and stared down into his face. "Don't you dare start that. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are more than capable of dealing with both your emotions and your duty, probably better than a lot of so called natural borns. I fully expect you to voice your opinion if you think I'm wrong and I'll do my best not to make you feel bad for doing so. And I expect the same from you."  
  
She took a deep breath. "This is a partnership we are entering into, Ty. Not a domination game. We both have roles to play and have to pull our own weight. We support each other, but shouldn't be afraid to voice disagreements."  
  
"I can see what you're saying, Lysa. It's just that marriage hasn't been presented to me as a partnership. The various marriages I've seen, they continue to live their separate lives even after being married." McQueen pushed himself up until he sat against the wall. "Look at Glen and his family. He's out here in space ninety percent of the time. Rhonda stays back on Earth and raises the kids. They rarely see each other. How do they make it work? How do people who see each other every day for only a few hours make it work? Or those who stay together all day long?"  
  
"By learning to not take the time they have together for granted." Silver sat up beside McQueen. "Everyone has to learn how to get along with their partner in a marriage. There are the little things that you have to adjust to. Does the other person snore, hog the blankets, wake up grumpy while you're raring to go, or the other way around. Is one neat and the other messy? These are things that you work out early on and learn to handle."  
  
"And the large things? What are they? Because frankly those all sounded large to me." His face reflected his seriousness.  
  
"Don't think that I'm brushing you off with this, ok? Every truly successful marriage I've seen, including my workaholic parents, have this as their number one credo. Never go to bed angry with one another or part from one another for a long time while still angry."  
  
"You'll always have regrets if something happens to your partner." McQueen nodded. "I can see that. I would add that we never go on a mission together while still angry."  
  
"Agreed." Silver shifted so that she faced him. "Do you see what I'm trying to get across?"  
  
"Yes. I think you'll have to bear with me more often than I will have to you. I've had a great many negatives beaten into me over the years. I try not to let them rule, but they still slip out."  
  
Silver kissed him. "They make you who you are. Now, can we go to sleep?"  
  
"Yes." McQueen slid back down under the covers and pulled her down next to him. "I promise I won't ask any more questions tonight."  
  
"Mm, good. I really need some sleep."  
  
McQueen held her and watched over her until she slept, her head on his shoulder. Even in this, she was different from Amy. There was no hesitation about touching him from Silver. In fact, she went out of the way when in private to touch him a lot. Amy had rarely touched him just to do it. The only time she had made free with his body was in their lovemaking. He could look back and see that part of it had been his own attitude of aloofness, most definitely not all the problems in that marriage were Amy's fault, he had contributed to the situation. But he could also see that he had tried to live up to Amy's expectations and fallen short for they didn't take into account his reality.  
  
Completely different were Silver's expectations as far as he knew them. She wanted him to be himself, but not shut her out. He didn't have to become a dinner conversationalist at expensive restaurants. He had only to be himself and he would be welcome. His reluctance about touching in public was honored, but when they were alone, he could expect her touch anywhere, anytime, and he found he enjoyed it, though it had startled him when he discovered that he wanted to touch her back. Most of the time there was no problems with his touching her, but occasionally, his past reared up and he had to fight it down.  
  
A yawn caught him unawares and McQueen smile ruefully over at Silver. The morning would bring another hard day. Time to sleep.  
  
****  
  
By the end of three days, Silver had finished all the death notices and helped Lt. Martins with the inventory paperwork. Since the lieutenant had broken her leg during the Chig attack when she was thrown down a set of stairs, Silver did all the running around the office and surviving areas to finish the inventory. Together they figured out that the missing five torpedoes had been inputted wrong; they were actually torpedo casings.  
  
During her light duty time, the squadron took the time to visit her throughout the day. Russell, Finch, and St. John managed to keep her satisfied. The squad usually dropped by during meals for several minutes, never staying to eat with the three officers since Silver managed to wrangle Ross into eating at the same time. She was getting to like using runners.  
  
The next morning Silver received her clearance to return to full duty.  
  
****  
  
After a full week of relentless around-the-clock work, the Saratoga was barely functional as a warship once more. The 64th squadron received the honor of being her one and only fighter squadron since the 58th had proved far too useful in getting the ship and crew organized. Although temporary replacement crew had been loaned to the Saratoga, each ship had its own way of doing things.  
  
Silver walked into the room where Hawkes was currently explaining to some replacement crew some bit of ship procedure that they had transgressed and managed to piss off a 'Toga crewmember. Hiding her smile at how patiently the young IV answered the questions, Silver realized that he had grown in depth with this tragedy.  
  
Dismissing the crew, Hawkes turned to Silver. "Colonel?"  
  
"Have you eaten today?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Although I am a bit late for lunch."  
  
"Then you can join the colonel and I."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Hawkes walked quietly beside her for a moment. Then he asked, "Silver, about what I asked that day-"  
  
"Now is not the time or place."  
  
"I know. I just wanted to say that I'm still interested."  
  
"I figured."  
  
Lunch found the entire 58th squadron together. They were eating when Ross showed up with his tray. "I see we are all eating late today. May I join you?"  
  
"Of course, sir." Silver and McQueen slid apart, allowing Ross to sit between them.  
  
"Since the Saratoga is nominally a fighting ship again, I've authorized some relaxation for the crew. I've arranged for crew rotations to the Bacchus starting next week." Ross waited until the excited voices quieted. "But because of some plans on the part of the two colonels here, we will be among the last."  
  
"Oh, man," grumbled Hawkes.  
  
McQueen pointed to Hawkes with his fork. "Are you saying you don't wish to attend our wedding?"  
  
"What? When? Where?" the squad burst out.  
  
"After our rotation on the Bacchus, we'll be going to Earth." Silver leaned forward slightly. "On the Goddard station, the commodore will be performing the marriage ceremony. Full dress uniforms. Everything to satisfy the legal system and the military. After the station ceremony, there will be a week's leave granted. On the third day of that leave, the consort ceremony will be held at my family's estate. You have the option of attending in full dress uniform or formal dress."  
  
"Formal dress? Like in tuxes?" West frowned slightly.  
  
McQueen nodded. "Yes. I would like to see you all in formal dress. But it's not an order. Just a personal request."  
  
"But we don't have any of that stuff." Hawkes crossed his arms.  
  
"If you're willing to sacrifice a couple of hours at the start of your leave, tailors will be available to take measurements." Silver grinned wickedly. "I've already sent some ideas to my mother, so sketches of dresses will be available. And for tuxes."  
  
"How will we pay for them?" Vansen sighed, obviously intrigued, but wary of the cost.  
  
"My family is taking up the tab. I am the bride after all." With a laugh, Silver said, "They've been waiting ten years for me to pick a consort. I think there's plenty in the budget for eight sets of formal dress in addition to the two primary ones."  
  
"Eight sets?" 'Phousse straightened. "Is Paul coming, too?"  
  
"How can we not invite him? After all, he is a member of this squad," McQueen spoke quietly.  
  
"He isn't cleared to leave the planet, so he can't be there for the Goddard ceremony. But since he's right there on the estate..." Silver shrugged.  
  
"He'll love it." Phousse's eyes lit up.  
  
"You are all welcome to spend however much of your leave you want to on the estate to spend with Paul. Silver's family has extended an open invitation to the entire squadron." McQueen sat straight.  
  
"Who's your best man?" asked West.  
  
"Ross will be performing the ceremony, so... Since Silver would like to have Phousse, Vansen and Finch as maids of honor, I was thinking of having Hawkes as the ring bearer with you and Paul as escorts. Russell and St. John would be ushers."  
  
"Me?" Hawke's eyes were wide. "But I'm-"  
  
"It doesn't matter, Hawkes. You are the closest I'll ever have to a son. Do you accept?" McQueen asked quietly.  
  
"Yes, sir," Hawkes stated fervently.  
  
McQueen ran his gaze over the others. "What about the rest of you?"  
  
"Yes, sir!"  
  
With a nod, McQueen acknowledged them. "Thank you."  
  
"Thank you," Silver said. "Hopefully this will offset the disappointment of not getting to the Bacchus for two weeks."  
  
"How long do we have on the Bacchus?" asked Hawkes.  
  
"Forty-eight hours, guaranteed." Ross smiled broadly. "We will be exempt from fighting during that time. Unless we absolutely have to."  
  
McQueen nodded. "So don't screw up between now and then. I would hate to pull any of your leave."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"And when you buy wedding presents, do remember where we'll be. Back on the Saratoga." Silver chuckled. "No bunny slippers, ok? Or toasters. Or any of the other stuff one usually gets at weddings."  
  
"Promise." Vansen gave a quick smile. "We'll keep it to the practical and useful, but tasteful."  
  
"Now that's a tall order," remarked McQueen.  
  
Chuckles went round the table when Hawkes looked puzzled. Leaning over, Vansen whispered, "I'll explain it later."  
  
The rest of lunch was spent with amusing tales of various weddings that folks had attended. Afterwards, the squad dispersed to resume their unofficial duties.  
  
Ross stayed behind with the two colonels. "I'm putting the entire squadron up for citations. They've really gone way beyond the call of duty on this."  
  
"It'll be appreciated, but I think the R&R will mean more in the short term." McQueen sipped his coffee, aware of the fact that it was, for a change, real coffee. "How did this happen?" He gestured at his mug.  
  
"Compliments of the Gettysburg, Twelfth Fleet. Commodore Wilson appreciates the fact we survived such overwhelming odds." Ross shrugged. "It won't last long, but it should last a day or so."  
  
Silver finished her coffee. "More?"  
  
"Please." Ross handed her his mug. As Silver walked away, he asked McQueen, "Are you all right with this, Ty?"  
  
"Oh, yes. I'm looking forward to this more than my marriage to Amy." McQueen glanced over at where Silver was pouring coffee. "If even half of what's promised comes true, it'll be twice what I had with Amy; the differences between the two women are profound. I find myself constantly rewriting my assessment of Silver. She accepts me for who I am and still manages to push me to my limits and beyond. I'm better for her involvement in my life. I'm looking forward to the challenges of our time together."  
  
Silver set the mugs down on the table. "Shall I leave you two to talk?"  
  
"It's all right," McQueen waved her to sit down. "I haven't said anything I don't want you to hear."  
  
"So if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing for a honeymoon? Four days isn't all that long." Ross cradled his refilled mug.  
  
"She's said something about a wilderness cabin and aloneness." McQueen gave Silver a quick smile.  
  
Hearing her cue, Silver explained. "We have this cabin in the woods. It's at least a twenty-mile hike from the estate. And there's no one around for miles. Best of all, if an emergency arises, it's a ten-minute flight. I have assurances from my family that no one will bother us unless it's an emergency."  
  
"Good. I would hate to start things out by murdering someone for interrupting us." McQueen deadpanned.  
  
Silver chuckled. "So would I."  
  
McQueen glanced at his timepiece. "Hate to say this, but I have to go. We're trying to repair another docking bay. I'm supplying some of the muscle and grunt work."  
  
"Don't let them take advantage of you." Silver's eyes narrowed.  
  
"I'm not. I volunteered."  
  
"Just remember. You're spoken for."  
  
"I know. See you for dinner." He rose with his coffee and stopped to refill it before leaving.  
  
Watching him walk out of the mess, Silver admired his body and felt pride in the fact that he was hers.  
  
"You want him a lot, don't you?"  
  
"Oh, yes." She let a hint of her pride show.  
  
"Sure it isn't just lust?"  
  
"Lust doesn't last five years. You know that. You care just as deeply, friend." Silver met Ross' gaze frankly. "Are you still on for the poker game?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good." Silver rose. "I'll see you at dinner."  
  
****  
  
McQueen limped into the Officer's Mess, trying to mask the amount of pain he was in. There were times being a tank really sucked and when he got injured was one of them. His entire right side hurt like hell and none of the remaining painkillers were safe for him.  
  
The head cook, seeing the difficulty he had walking, shooed him off to the table. Gratefully, McQueen sat down and waited.  
  
"What happened, colonel?" asked the cook as he placed a tray of food before McQueen.  
  
"Cradle slipped out of the sling as we were trying to shift it. I, unfortunately, was beneath the damn thing." McQueen reached for the coffee. "Still the real stuff?"  
  
"Yes, sir. I've saved a pot for the commodore. Is he eating with you again tonight?"  
  
"I believe so."  
  
"Then I'll bring it over." The cook hesitated, then asked, "How badly are you hurt?"  
  
"I'll have bruises running from my shoulder to my ankle and wrenched muscles as well. Doctor said I was lucky it was a glancing blow." McQueen took a sip of the coffee.  
  
"Will you be in your quarters tonight, sir?"  
  
McQueen narrowed his gaze.  
  
"I thought I would send over a bag of ice, sir."  
  
"Send it to Col. Silver's quarters. I'll be there for a while." McQueen noted that the man's rank and name was Master Sergeant Rollins.  
  
"Very well, sir."  
  
McQueen watched as the sergeant returned to the kitchen area. He was still adjusting to being asked personal questions by people he didn't really know. But since the Chig attack, people took the time to inquire how things were going and it bothered him slightly. He hoped the notoriety would wear off soon.  
  
Struggling to use his left hand to eat with, McQueen knew when Silver entered the mess. He hid a grimace at the thought of how easily she would read his pain and how much difficulty he was having.  
  
"What happened?" came the expected question from his right side.  
  
He glanced up at her and saw her face tighten. Damn, his face must be bruised too. "Cradle fell on me. A glancing blow, according to the doctor. No broken bones. But we're out of safe painkillers. The Chig attack took up too many of Sickbay's supplies."  
  
"How bad?"  
  
"Bad enough. Nothing's broken. Just massive bruising and muscle wrenching."  
  
Russell, Finch and St. John walked in, moving in a straight line for Silver. "You called?"  
  
Ignoring the look from McQueen, Silver said, "Finch, see about some ice, please. Russell, you and St. John get him to my quarters. Finch, take his tray with you to my quarters. Then please stick around, all three of you. I'll need you afterwards."  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Finch headed for the kitchen.  
  
"Silver, I intend to sit here and eat my dinner. And enjoy this pot of real coffee with you and Ross." McQueen tried to glare up at her, but the strain on his neck and shoulders made him wince.  
  
"I'll make sure you get some more of the coffee and Ross will understand. You can eat afterwards in my quarters. We can't have you laid up. And if we don't take care of it now, you won't even be able to stand up come morning." She gave him a quick grin. "I'm being stubborn and willful and bossy. Surrender. You won't win. I'm not the one in pain."  
  
As his body reminded him forcefully just how much pain he was in, McQueen sighed. "All right."  
  
The two Marines helped him up out of the chair and McQueen quickly found that he could not even put weight on the bruised leg.  
  
"A cold shower, then a hot one. Put him on the bed. I'll be there as soon as I've explained to Ross."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Silver shook her head slightly as she watched the two Marines half-carry McQueen out. As Finch reached for the tray, Silver said, "Let him eat some if he can."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
Pouring herself a cup of the coffee, Silver sat down. The mug pressed against her forehead, she heard one of the chairs pull out several minutes later.  
  
"Where's McQueen?"  
  
"By now, in my quarters. He's hurt." As Ross looked worried, she added, "He says there's no broken bones, just massive bruising and wrenched muscles. But Sickbay doesn't have any safe pain killers for him."  
  
"And you're going to do your thing with him?" When Silver nodded, Ross asked, "How far will he be healed? Or do you know?"  
  
"Depends on just how bad the damage is. I won't know until I get a good look at him."  
  
"Have you eaten yet?"  
  
"No. Sort of lost it when I saw the pain radiating off him."  
  
"You just remember what you told me."  
  
Silver gave Ross a quick smile. "Very well. Though I need to get some of this coffee to take to him. I promised that I would get him some more."  
  
"Ask the head cook. Rollins."  
  
Silver rose and went to get a tray of food. As she reached the coffee pots, she caught the eye of the head cook. "I need some of this delivered to my quarters."  
  
"Col. Silver?"  
  
"Yes." She drew the answer out, not sure of why he was asking.  
  
"I'll have it and a large container of ice delivered, in what, an hour?"  
  
"That would be good. Thank you."  
  
"Col. McQueen mentioned he would be at your place for a while. Did he finish eating already?"  
  
"No, he's eating in my quarters. He was in a lot of pain and I thought it better to get him somewhere private."  
  
"Good thinking. All right, Colonel. One hour."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Silver ate quickly, making small talk with Ross. Then she headed for her quarters at a trot.  
  
The door opened and she inhaled sharply as she saw the extent of the bruising for the first time. Bruises were showing across his chest and abdomen as well as the entire leg. Swelling made his hip, knee and ankle twice their usual size. From his temple, a bruise wrapped around to his nose and down to his jaw. She had no doubt it extended to the back of his head. The cheekbone had vanished under the bruise. Hands on her hips, she said, "Blast it, McQueen! Learn to duck and roll, will you?"  
  
"Easy for you to say. There was no warning. I'm lucky the damn thing hit me a glancing blow. I'd hate to think of what a full force one would have done." McQueen lay stretched out on the bed, body on top of the blankets. "Now, will you call these three off? I am capable of feeding myself." He tried to raise himself onto an elbow and hissed as his body protested.  
  
"Ice pack?" Silver caught the ice bag that Finch tossed her. "I can see just how well you can take care of yourself at the moment. You can't even stand up on your feet without help. I intend to make you feel better, but even I need some help to get the swelling down. Especially on the hip, knee and ankle." She placed the ice on the mentioned knee, holding it in place when McQueen flinched. "Sorry, but we need to bring down the swelling before I do anything else."  
  
"I understand." McQueen looked longingly at his dinner.  
  
"I can feed you, sir." Finch reached over to the tray.  
  
"Don't suppose I'm going to eat any other way tonight." With a sigh, McQueen surrendered.  
  
By the time the pot of coffee and ice arrived, McQueen had finished the food and sipped his mug empty with help from Finch. The ice had melted away, but the swelling on his knee and hip had gone down.  
  
Silver took the tray from the runner, not letting him see anything inside, and shut the door. The new ice pack in hand, she sat beside McQueen's foot.  
  
Despite his effort not to jerk the leg, McQueen found himself doing it when the ice hit his ankle.  
  
"The ankle is bad, Ty. What does all that Zen stuff teach you? How do you deal with pain? Surely there's a way to do that."  
  
"Centering. I need something to focus on besides the pain." McQueen gritted his teeth.  
  
"How about music?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Finch hurried over to the music collection and quickly found one. Pachebel's Canon in D filled the room. "How's that?"  
  
"Good." McQueen forced himself to concentrate on the music and slowly centered himself. He could then view the pain as distant.  
  
After fifteen minutes, Silver shifted up to beside McQueen's head. She slashed her wrist and pressed it against his mouth. Softly she said, "Go ahead and drink. Think of the joints as moving freely, without pain. Picture the broken blood vessels as whole. The bruises fading."  
  
Over and over she repeated the words for the next five minutes, withdrawing her wrist for short periods of time, then returning it to his mouth for another few swallows. She pulled her wrist away for the last time. "Close your eyes and keep picturing the healing. Rest."  
  
Silver rose and staggered. Russell caught her, his throat deliberately exposed. Her fangs sank in and he sagged to his knees, still holding her. Then Finch pulled her away, allowing Silver to feed off her. After a moment, St. John took his turn.  
  
By the time McQueen roused himself nearly a half hour later, he and Silver were alone. Silver he found curled up in the chair, dozing. "What are you doing over there?"  
  
"Hm?" Silver raised her head. "Oh, this. I didn't want to disturb you. That way you would get maximum benefit from the blood."  
  
McQueen took stock of his body and blinked in surprise. The bruises looked to be several days old. Moving his leg didn't trigger instant pain. Swiveling his ankle, he found that the pain was nearly gone, leaving him feeling like he had stepped wrong and merely twisted it. The knee, hip and shoulder joints all moved freely with little pain.  
  
"Damn, you're better than the doctors."  
  
"I can only help you heal faster. I can't fix something that is truly wrong. If it would take surgery to repair, I can't fix it." Stretching, Silver rose to her feet and headed for the coffee pot.  
  
"Seemed to work pretty well on that planet." McQueen sat up carefully, finding that not everything was healed. Muscles still ached and flared if he moved too quickly.  
  
"I gave you a lot more blood than I could spare at the time. I was determined not to let you die on me. Not after you came so far to get me." She poured a mug of coffee. "Want some more coffee?"  
  
"Please." Swinging his feet over the edge, McQueen slowly stood up. "So you can't cure sickness and things like that."  
  
"Right." Silver handed him his coffee. "Drinking regularly from me will boost your immune system even more than normal. It'll take a really determined bug to bring you down. Cancer is rare among us, another benefit of the symbiote. I can also help you heal faster from surgery."  
  
"Definitely a good reason to keep you around." McQueen smiled to show he was kidding. To his surprise, Silver didn't respond in kind. "What is it?"  
  
"There were those unscrupulous folk who did that, early last century. And they were really bad people." Silver's eyes darkened with anger.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The Nazis."  
  
A shiver went down McQueen's spine. "How bad did it get?" He drank some of the coffee.  
  
Silver sat on the edge of the bed. "An entire family wiped out, twenty souls in the end, right down to the baby. Some general found out about them and used them ruthlessly to keep himself and a couple of friends in good health. A precursor to the Black Forces squadron slipped into the general's stronghold and killed him and his cronies. The family had been bled to death."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"You have nothing to be sorry for." She drank from her mug. "Now, how do you feel?"  
  
"Less like a carrier ran over me." McQueen set the mug down and stretched cautiously. "More like normal. A bit stiff and sore muscle wise, but at least my joints aren't in flames. You know, you didn't have to do that. I could have lived with the pain for the next several days. I would have healed just fine."  
  
"Consider it one of the advantages of having a vampire in your life."  
  
McQueen asked a question he had thought about off and on. "What about the squad? If one of them is injured? Would you do the same?"  
  
"If they are willing to let me, yes. But it can be hard to let go of preconceived notions." Silver ran a hand down his back, noting that the mottled coloration extended to his spine. "And next time, get the hell out of the way, all right?"  
  
"If I can." He chuckled and winced as muscles protested. "It wasn't like I had any time to respond. It dropped from one end and slammed into me before it snapped the lines on the other end. I landed ten feet away."  
  
"Did you lose consciousness?"  
  
McQueen nodded. "I have no memory of the time between the impact and being on the deck. A few seconds is all."  
  
"Long enough." Silver sighed. "What did the doctors say?"  
  
"No concussion."  
  
"Good. One less thing to worry about." Silver drank some of her coffee. "A hot shower and then I think you better go to sleep tonight."  
  
"Here?"  
  
"Might as well. There's room." She knew very well that there was room.  
  
"A hot shower you said?"  
  
"Yes and no extracurricular activities tonight. You need to sleep so you can finish healing."  
  
Getting up, McQueen could feel how tired his body was. "I feel what you mean."  
  
Silver massaged his neck and shoulders lightly until he fell asleep before tucking him in. A quick shower and she curled up around him, overjoyed that he was not dead.  
  
****  
  
When McQueen and Silver arrived in the mess for breakfast, the head cook gave McQueen a hard look. "You have some definite advantages, sir. If I had been looking the way I think you did, I wouldn't even be able to get out of bed this morning."  
  
McQueen gave the man a nod. "The advantages, though, do not outweigh the disadvantages."  
  
"People give you a hard time over being a tank, huh? Well, it just goes to show how small minded they are." Rollins shook his head. "Some people can never see past the ends of their noses. Well, eat heartily, sir, as much as you want, on me. I expect all that rapid healing takes a toll on the body and you need to refuel."  
  
"Yes." McQueen's stomach growled and he felt ravenous. But he was determined to get by on only one helping.  
  
Despite his intentions, McQueen found himself going back for seconds. Sitting back down, he looked at Silver. "Is this normal?"  
  
"Yes. You burned a lot of calories last night. You need to replenish your energy stores."  
  
Before he started eating again, McQueen said, "I promise I'll stay out from underneath any more heavy equipment."  
  
"Good."  
  
****  
  
For the two weeks until their leave began, the 58th worked hard on repairing the Toga. Their efforts were rewarded the night before their transport left the carrier. Trickling into the Officer's Mess for dinner, each member of the squad was asked to step out of line. The head cook led them out of the Mess to a nearby conference room.  
  
Opening the door, Rollins said, "This is to show our appreciation for all the hard work you've done the last month, and because you saved the Saratoga. Enjoy."  
  
They entered the room and found Commodore Ross at the table. Behind the table a buffet dinner had been set up with a server.  
  
McQueen's eyes widened slightly as he inhaled deeply. "They've cooked up a real meal." His steps quickened as he strode forward.  
  
"They never do that unless we're about to go on a major assault." Hawkes glanced about in confusion. "I thought we were going on leave."  
  
"Lieutenant, the cooks can do this whenever it pleases them. And obviously it pleases them to do it now - for you." Ross gave Hawkes a hard look.  
  
"I appreciate it, sir. I just don't understand why."  
  
"The head cook told you." McQueen halted near Ross. "The work that we've been doing is being recognized."  
  
Silver touched Hawkes lightly on the arm. "It sometimes pays not to question things."  
  
"But how do you know when?"  
  
"Trial and error. And instinct."  
  
West slapped Hawkes on the shoulder. "Just accept it, Coop. Now, come on. Let's eat."  
  
Once everyone had taken a seat, Ross put his fork down. "Tomorrow our transport leaves at 0700. Have everything you are taking with you aboard by 0630."  
  
Silver paused in her eating. "Anything you might like to keep from disappearing during your absence may be stored in my quarters. Not that I think anything will go walking, but we do have a lot of temporary personnel aboard."  
  
With a nod, Ross said, "The colonel has a good idea."  
  
The squad murmured their agreement to the idea.  
  
McQueen waited until everyone had finished their first helping of food before working around to his subject. "While aboard the Bacchus we are officially off duty. There should not be any reason for us to fight since the Bacchus is headed back toward Earth."  
  
"We're riding it back to Earth?" Hawkes grinned at the idea.  
  
"No. Just as far as the 8th Fleet. We'll be catching a transport from there." Silver almost laughed at the comical dismay on Hawkes' face.  
  
"Will you be able to stay out of trouble for forty-eight hours on the Bacchus?" Though the question was for the entire squad, McQueen kept his eyes on Hawkes, remembering that Hawkes had managed to get drugged out of his mind the last time.  
  
"Yes, sir," Hawkes stated firmly, "I'll stick to alcohol, in limited quantities."  
  
"Yes, sir," answered the rest of the squad.  
  
"Good." Silver fixed her gaze on Russell, Finch and St. John. "I really don't want my good time to be interrupted by the news that someone has been tossed in the brig."  
  
"We'll be good. No fighting and only friendly games of chance," Russell said quietly. "I don't want to miss out on a good time."  
  
"Now that we have that straightened out, I'm saying good night." Ross stood up, coffee mug in hand. "Some last minute stuff before I can enjoy myself."  
  
"Good night, sir."  
  
Silver had a second plate of food before calling it a night. "If you want to drop stuff off, do so in the next hour, please."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
McQueen followed ten minutes later, having gone for thirds.  
  
"Think they'll be together when we drop stuff off?" asked West.  
  
"No." Vansen shook her head. "They've both been fairly circumspect. I think McQueen will be with the commodore."  
  
In Ross' quarters, McQueen handed his friend a rum while he took a scotch. "Are you still game?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good." McQueen gave Ross a quick smile. "Silver has something plAmyd for our time there, but she won't tell me anything." He sat down in his usual chair. "Outside of our poker game, how are you going to spend your time?"  
  
"Watch movies, basically relax. Get a massage or two." Ross strummed the guitar.  
  
"Pretty much what I would do normally." McQueen stretched his legs out before him, aware that he was actually pretty relaxed.  
  
"You and those W.C. Fields movies."  
  
"And what is wrong with W.C. Fields?"  
  
"Nothing, nothing. Just broaden your horizons, lad."  
  
Pleasure filled McQueen as they settled into a long-standing discussion.  
  
An hour later Silver entered with Ross' permission. "Well, everyone stashed something in my quarters."  
  
"That really was a good idea, Silver." Ross glanced up at her as she walked over to the bar.  
  
She shrugged. "This way someone has to be very determined to get in."  
  
"And that puts them in a totally different category." McQueen sipped his nearly empty glass.  
  
"Refill?" offered Silver, holding up the scotch bottle.  
  
"No, thank you. I've had plenty."  
  
"Same here." Ross strummed an A chord. "So, Silver, what about this ceremony planet side? I know the station ceremony. That's no problem and they give me a script."  
  
Sitting down in the third chair, Silver gave Ross a grin. "Don't worry. There'll be a script and a chance to brief you on it. There isn't anything for you to worry about. No shape shifting or anything. Just a set of questions and an exchange of vows."  
  
McQueen leaned forward slightly. "Do we make up the vows?"  
  
"No." Silver shook her head. "They're set vows. But you can add to them if you want to. But you might read through them first."  
  
"When?"  
  
"After we get to Earth. Father's busy going over everything with an eye to having to explain. Something I don't want to do in addition to everything else I have to do."  
  
"What preparations do I have to go through?"  
  
"You have it easy."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Show up." After a quick grin, Silver said, "Really, that's about it. You'll be asked a set of questions, ritual, and you give the set answers. If you want to elaborate, you do so after the set answer. As the non- vampire member of the partnership, you have only to basically state your willingness to be my consort."  
  
"Till death do us part."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And what do you have to do?" Ross had the distinct feeling that Silver was hiding something.  
  
Silver sat back with a sigh. "Forty eight hours of abstinence to show my control. Prove that control before the ceremony. After all, you don't want a famished vampire on display. Show my willingness to commit to this partnership. Things like that." She sipped her scotch.  
  
"What aren't you saying?" McQueen frowned.  
  
"I am a Warrior. I will have to prove my worthiness."  
  
"What about my worthiness?"  
  
"You are assumed to be worthy since I have asked you." Silver shrugged.  
  
"And just how will you prove your worthiness?" McQueen's eyes narrowed.  
  
"In a series of trials. Six in all."  
  
"When?"  
  
"During the two days before the ceremony."  
  
"But you have other things you need to do."  
  
Again Silver shrugged. "It's the way it's done."  
  
"And if you should fail any of these trials?"  
  
"Then I must break all ties between us. Until I can prove my worth."  
  
"Has anyone ever failed?"  
  
"Yes. Most managed the second time around." Silver gave a quick smile. "Not to worry. I'll pass. Even against Griffon. I have no intention of missing our ceremony. I will be there."  
  
Both men heard the determination in her voice.  
  
Giving herself a shake, Silver said, "Enough of this. I have forty-eight hours of complete and total enjoyment ahead. And I intend to enjoy it to the fullest."  
  
"Just what do you have plAmyd?"  
  
Silver smiled at Ross. "A series of comedy movies. I know how much Ty likes his W. C. Fields movies. I thought I would add a few of my favorites from the early 20th Century."  
  
"Whose?" Ross continued strumming.  
  
"The Marx Brothers and Chaplin."  
  
"Excellent. I've been trying for years to get him to watch some of them. Which ones?"  
  
"The Cocoanuts, A Day at the Races, and the Gold Rush, in particular."  
  
"Some of my favorites."  
  
The slightly wistful tone in Ross' voice made McQueen glance at Silver. She nodded slightly. He said, "You're welcome to join us, Glen."  
  
"I wouldn't want to intrude."  
  
Silver rose and crouched beside Ross, a hand on his knee. "You won't be intruding. We'll have plenty of time after our 'game' to be alone with room service. If you want to join us, we would like you to."  
  
Covering her hand, Ross said softly, "You two are kind to an old war horse."  
  
"You're our friend." McQueen rose and stood beside Ross. He tilted his friend's head up so he could look into the brown eyes. "As one old war horse to another, it's not kindness but friendship. Friends care about one another. You taught me that."  
  
"You win, Ty." Ross appeared somewhat sad.  
  
"What is it, Glen?" McQueen squeezed Ross' shoulder.  
  
"I miss my family." Ross sighed heavily.  
  
"You'll be seeing them soon."  
  
"I get this way before I go home. Despite all the letters telling me everything that's been going on, I am still missing it. I'm not there for my girl's first prom date. Or a million other things."  
  
"Yes, it is hard." Silver turned Ross' head toward her. "But you trust your wife to raise them right. And they know you're out here, keeping them safe. If you were at a desk job back on Earth, you'd be utterly miserable. Wouldn't you?"  
  
Ross nodded.  
  
"And no doubt, no matter how much your wife would love to have you home each night, she knows this about you. She knows you would be constantly fighting the urge to come out here and turn your talents to the war."  
  
Again Ross nodded.  
  
"So do your kids, no doubt. It's a trade off you decided to make a long time ago, my friend. Just like I did." Silver sighed. "I love Cassie dearly, but I have to be out here where I can make a difference in this war, with any luck."  
  
McQueen snorted. "Silver, you've already done that, several times."  
  
"As have you both. It is time for a well-deserved break for the three of us and the 5-8. Glen, treasure the time with your family. Store up the memories for the dark times ahead. That's what you and I must do." Silver stood up slowly. "McQueen is a somewhat different story. His family is here."  
  
"And I worry every time they're out of my sight." McQueen stepped around Ross' chair and pulled Silver to him. "All of them."  
  
"Even though we can all take care of ourselves, we like to know someone worries about us." Silver wrapped her arm around McQueen's waist.  
  
"Until recently, there's only been one person to worry about me. And he wasn't around very often." McQueen gave Ross a smile. "I never realized how much he cared though. But it gives me a good feeling to know how many people care about me now."  
  
Hugging McQueen's waist, Silver said, "Enough maudlin emotions. Everyone caught up on their paperwork?"  
  
"Yes, thank God," muttered Ross.  
  
"An hour before dinner." McQueen grinned. "I even started some of what I expect to be filling out when we return."  
  
"Sneaky bastard," Ross groused. "What about you, Silver?"  
  
"Before dinner, too. And you?"  
  
"Same here. I was determined to have everything in order for Captain Standish's taking command in the morning." Ross strummed several chords. "She should have no difficulty with crew during our absence."  
  
"Or the Toga. All critical functions work. Hopefully the worst of the jury- rigging will have been repaired." Releasing his hold on Silver, McQueen returned to his chair. He watched as Silver sat down. "Chief Master Sgt. Richards estimated at least another month of intensive work before the majority of the Toga's urgent repairs are finished."  
  
"That's with only one tender." Ross grinned. "I received word just before dinner that the HMS Cromwell will be arriving in two days to expedite repairs. The British seem anxious to have the 5th Fleet up and running ASAP." He gave Silver a shrewd look. "Do you have something to do with this? All those calls you've been making lately?"  
  
"I haven't said a word to the British." Silver smiled. "But vampires tend to help out where needed. And we are not all Americans."  
  
"That would explain the shipment of supplies from the French." Ross shook his head slightly. "Just how wide spread are you folks?"  
  
"Throughout the world, now." Silver shrugged. "We're pretty much integrated these days."  
  
"Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth, Glen." McQueen sat back, his eyes on Silver.  
  
"I have no intention of doing so. Anything that gets the old girl up and running smoothly..." Ross shook his head, remembering all the damage his ship had suffered.  
  
"Well, the old girl is someone else's problem for the next two weeks." Silver rose, walking back to Ross. She leaned over, whispering sultrily in his ear, "I intend to have a very good time with both you and Ty."  
  
Long association enabled McQueen to see that Ross flushed with embarrassment. He rose, setting his hand on Silver's hip. "See you in the morning, Glen. Good night."  
  
Giving Ross a promising smile, Silver said, "Night."  
  
"Good night," Ross managed in a strained voice.  
  
In Silver's quarters, McQueen asked, "What did you say to him?"  
  
"Just that I plan on having a good time with you both."  
  
"He isn't going to get any sleep after that." McQueen laughed softly.  
  
"Speaking of sleep, we should get some ourselves pretty soon."  
  
"I have one or two activities plAmyd." McQueen kissed her soundly.  
  
"I think we can fit them in."  
  
The 58th and 64th squadrons stood waiting in the landing bay when the three officers arrived, sea bags over their shoulders. Ross, McQueen and Silver acknowledged the salutes given them and boarded the transport. The squadrons followed them. Sea bags were stowed away and seats taken.  
  
"Let's go get some R&R," Ross said.  
  
"Yes, sir!" 


	14. Blood and Souls, Chapter Fourteen

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.  
  
Rating: NC17  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Warning: Sex, Slash, Language.  
  
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.  
Blood and Souls  
  
Chapter Fourteen  
  
Disembarking on the Bacchus, the military personnel were confronted by several civilian men in non-military uniforms. One man, looking to be in his early thirties, stepped forward.  
  
"Welcome to the Bacchus. Quarters have been assigned. Please note that all decks below Level Nine are restricted to ship board personnel. Other than that, enjoy yourselves. If you will follow these two gentlemen and give them your names, they will take you to your quarters." He gestured to Ross. "Sir, if you and both colonels McQueen and Silver will wait a moment, please."  
  
Ross nodded his acquiescence as McQueen and Silver did the same.  
  
When the 58th hesitated, McQueen said, "Go on. See you in forty- eight hours."  
  
The others started off, their sea bags over their shoulders, but Hawkes did not move.  
  
"Go on, Hawkes. Just be careful."  
  
"Yes, sir." Hawkes moved down the corridor.  
  
"Anything wrong?" Ross asked.  
  
"No, sir. The three of you are quartered in a different section and I thought I'd escort you myself. I am Captain Adamson. The Bacchus is my ship. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to make your stay more enjoyable." Adamson pointed to a corridor beside the one the squadrons had taken. "This way."  
  
"Why a different area?" asked Silver, picking her sea bag up.  
  
"Col. Silver, isn't it? When she nodded, Adamson continued. You did put in some fairly elaborate requests. Nothing we cant handle, but the quarters meeting your requirements are in this section. It is also close to the movie theater you asked for. The rest of what you requested has been placed in the quarters we've given you.  
  
Thank you.  
  
McQueen spoke for the first time. Well need food, drink and snacks for three in the theater.  
  
While you're checking out your rooms, I'll arrange it. Adamson paused before a door. Commodore, these are your rooms.  
  
Ross glanced at his two companions.  
  
They are next door, sir. The theaters right down the corridor. Adamson handed Ross the card key.  
  
Fifteen mikes? Ross asked McQueen and Silver.  
  
Make it twenty. Silver grinned. Gives us time to shower and change.  
  
Ross saw the way she ran her eyes over McQueen and knew what she had in mind. Twenty mikes in the theater.  
  
Yes, sir.  
  
The door opened silently and Ross entered. He dropped the sea bag on the king size bed, noticing the table set up for a three way poker game. It remained in his jurisdiction as to whether they played. With a shrug, Ross started for the bathroom and a hot shower.  
  
McQueen stopped in the bathroom doorway, transfixed by the humongous garden tub. 'Definitely room for two, or even four, people,' he thought. The emperor size bed had surprised him, but he'd figured they should have plenty of room for a change. But such a huge tub?  
  
Slipping past him, Silver examined several bottles on a shelf above the toilet. Good. Plenty of bubble bath.  
  
That reminded him of what she'd said and he felt like trying the tub out immediately. "Too bad we don't have time for a bath."  
  
"A shower will have to do." Silver returned to the main room. "Come give me a hand?"  
  
Turning around, McQueen saw that Silver had already dropped her flight suit to her waist. "Definitely."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Ross sat in the movie theater, a tub of popcorn in his lap and a drink on his armrest. He was several minutes early and wondered how late the other two would be.  
  
The door opened and the two colonels walked in, dressed in hot weather uniforms consisting of short sleeves and long pants. Ross admitted that they both looked good and felt a familiar tightening in his groin.  
  
To Ross surprise, McQueen dropped a hand on his shoulder and said silkily, Didn't want to keep you waiting for our coming. There'll be enough of that later.  
  
The implications of what McQueen hinted at made Ross tingle with anticipation and trepidation.  
  
Silver handed McQueen a tub of popcorn and a drink. Lets start the first movie. Its W. C. Fields in Its A Gift.  
  
McQueen sat down a seat over from Ross and put his feet up on the back of the seats before him. When Ross looked at him in surprise, he said, Its just the three of us. Settling the popcorn in his lap, McQueen smiled. I'd never do this in a real theater with other people.  
  
No you wouldnt. You aren't that inconsiderate. Silver kissed McQueen on the forehead before sitting down beside him, her own popcorn and drink in hand. Now, lets enjoy.  
  
They laughed and cried their way through nearly five hours of movies, taking breaks as necessary between shows. Silver didn't hide her tears or laughter from the two men and they loosened up enough to do the same. When the lights came up after The Gold Rush, Silver rose, stretching.  
  
I think Ive had enough movie watching for a while. How about you?  
  
Ross yawned. Yes.  
  
So whats next? McQueen gave Silver a deep look.  
  
Ready for some serious poker? she shot back, grinning.  
  
Some food would be nice.  
  
Room service, Glen. They should be preparing a meal right now.  
  
You've thought of everything, muttered Ross, eyeing her suspiciously.  
  
She shrugged. "I added up the time of the movies, threw in some extra time for bathroom stops and just general stretching between shows, and added it to the schedule I submitted."  
  
"Just what do you have planned?" McQueen glared at Silver.  
  
"For the poker game? I just anticipated the fact we'd be hungry and thirsty. Now, are you two still game or have you turned chicken on me?"  
  
McQueen grabbed her and pulled her against him. "Oh, I'm game all right. Watch yourself."  
  
Same to you.  
  
Ross stood up, looking at the two colonels, his friends. All right. I'm still in.  
  
So where's it to be played? asked McQueen.  
  
My quarters.  
  
McQueen glanced at Ross in surprise, then over at Silver. You set it up that way?  
  
Yes.  
  
Understanding why made McQueen nod. It gave Ross a sense of control in a situation he was still unsure about. Shall we go then?  
  
Might as well. Ross set the empty popcorn tub down on his seat and headed for the door.  
  
Room service was just pulling up outside Ross quarters as the three arrived; the cart was taken inside by McQueen, who parked it next to the poker table.  
  
So who sits where? McQueen uncovered the cart and found the makings for cold sandwiches, ice and non-alcoholic drinks. He raised an eyebrow at the drink selection.  
  
"I want everyone to have their wits about them. No accusations of alcohol having blurred the senses or wits. This is going to be a serious game, but we're also going to have fun." Silver grinned.  
  
Her grin reminded Ross of the Cheshire Chat and he had the feeling that this game of poker would change their relationships forever. A part of him felt terror at the idea of baring his soul and body to this vampire, but he also felt like he wanted to find that sense of relief.  
  
Glen, you pick your seat, then Ty. Silver started making a ham, turkey and Swiss sandwich.  
  
McQueen gathered the makings for a roast beef, ham, turkey, and Swiss sandwich. Glen, what would you like?  
  
One like yours, please. Ross took a seat randomly and watched McQueen finish making the two sandwiches. McQueen sat to his left, leaving Silver on his right. Who deals the first hand?  
  
Silver set drinks down before the two men and at her place. Sitting down with her sandwich plate, she said, The two of you can argue that one. I do have some ground rules for the game though.  
  
Surprise, muttered Ross before biting into his sandwich.  
  
Silver pretended not to hear. First, you may've noticed the change in attire for both Ty and myself. We should have equal numbers of clothing to remove. Second, there is only one winner per hand. The other two must remove one article of clothing. Third, a pair of shoes is one item, the same with socks. A belt and pants is one item. Fourth, once one of us is disrobed completely, the next one close to it will also be considered to have lost. The one with the most clothing on is the winner. Fifth, the winner is allowed to dictate a sexual situation between the two losers.  
  
What kind of a game is this?  
  
Silver met Ross gaze frankly. One vampires play, Glen. Sex and blood, remember? Afterward, all three dress again and we continue.  
  
For how long? McQueen sipped his drink.  
  
Everyone should win at least once. If we continue after that can be decided later .  
  
McQueen said, Twice. Everyone should win twice.  
  
Any objections? Silver asked Ross.  
  
No. Any other rules?  
  
No. Just a note of reassurance, I won't drink from either of you without your express permission. Silver took a bite of her sandwich.  
  
Was that a possibility? Ross toyed with his glass.  
  
Silver shook her head. "But I figured I'd lay to rest any possible fears of such an occurrence."  
  
Picking up the deck of cards, McQueen shuffled them several times, cut them twice and shuffled again. "Do you want to deal, Glen?"  
  
"No, go ahead, Ty."  
  
By the third hand, McQueen knew that Silver was deliberately losing to Ross. He watched her bluff the stakes up only to get called by Ross and show a losing hand. It occurred to him why as he noticed that Ross had finally relaxed and settled in to seriously play. Another attempt on her part to give Ross a sense of control, realizing this, McQueen knew that Ross had to win the first round. Like Silver, he started to lose enough to keep Ross with the most clothing.  
  
With a laugh, Silver tossed her cards down and removed her panties. She stood beside the table, naked. Well, I definitely lost. Turning around, she said, I wont win any beauty contests, but I don't think I look too bad, if you ignore the scars.  
  
The sight of her bare, trim, well-muscled body distracted Ross. With an effort, he concentrated on his cards. He called McQueen's bluff and the Marine chuckled, tossing his cards on the table, face down.  
  
You win, Glen. Rising, McQueen peeled off his t-shirt and shorts. He reached out and grabbed Silver by the waist, pulling her to him. After kissing her thoroughly, McQueen gave his friend a challenging look, letting his erection show with no attempt to hide it. Well, Glen? What shall it be? Do we get dressed again? Or do you have something in mind for us to do?  
  
His body hard and aching from the sight and actions of the two naked Marines, it took Ross a moment to think of something. I think- He coughed, swallowed and started again. I think you two should make love. But I'd like to see her drink from you, Ty. I want to see it done for real.  
  
Nodding his understanding, McQueen kissed Silver again. Its fine with me. And Glen, if you need a hand afterward, Id be happy to help out. With a wicked grin, McQueen swept Silver off her feet and carried her to the bed.  
  
I think he can handle anything that comes up. Silver stretched out on the bed where McQueen deposited her, reveling in the comfort and softness. Ah, a real bed. This is going to be fun. Her lips curved in a knowing smile as she reached up and tugged McQueen down next to her. Before McQueen could prevent her, Silver bent her head and started licking his erection.  
  
A low moan rewarded her and she felt McQueen's hands caress her body as she paid lavish attention to his erect member and sacs of flesh beneath. He spread his legs with no prompting and Silver extended her attentions to the inside of his thighs, sending quivers through his legs and producing gut- deep moans of appreciation. She licked the length of his erection and then buried it in her mouth and throat making him thrust up helplessly, hands clenched in the blankets. After several long, slow pulls, Silver licked her way up to his nipples and after making them pucker, reached his throat, jaw and mouth.  
  
McQueen kissed her deeply, passionately, his tongue curling with hers. He rolled her onto her back and proceeded to lick and nibble his way down her body. Every time a shiver of desire swept through her, he chuckled softly. He slid his hand down between her parted legs and explored gently. Dampness greeted him and he slid two fingers in carefully before lowering his head. Long, languid strokes of his tongue made her dig fingers into his hips. Working the tip of his tongue down to the hard, little nub had her moaning continuously. As he pumped the fingers of the one hand in and out of her, increasing the speed as he went along, McQueen let the other hand toy with her nipples, squeezing and kneading. He worked her clit with his mouth, using his teeth and tongue to drive her toward climax.  
  
She came with a hard, groaning gasp, her hands clutching his body. McQueen didn't stop his actions, working to drive her along to a second one. Before she could reach it, he turned around and drove his hard erection deep into her with one fast stroke. She arched up into him, her hands moving to his shoulders. He set a fast rhythm, nuzzling her neck on the opposite side from Ross.  
  
Fascinated, Ross couldn't tear his gaze away as McQueen started moving faster and faster, driving deep into her, mouth roving from her mouth to her breasts. He knew McQueen would come very soon. He watched as Silver raised her head and sank her teeth into McQueen's throat. A shudder swept through McQueen, his head snapped back, and a soft cry of sheer pleasure escaped. The shudder returned stronger and McQueen climaxed, his head dropping down onto Silvers shoulder. She released her hold on his throat, licking it before tightening her grip on his upper body. Slowly, McQueen sank down onto his elbows over her, his chest heaving.  
  
Ross suppressed a groan at the ache he felt in his groin. He'd been so wrapped up in watching that he hadn't even used his hands.  
  
On the bed, McQueen moved down Silver, licking and kissing all the way to her toes. Then she sat up as he rose onto his knees, and sucked his still hard cock into her mouth, sucking the last drops out.  
  
McQueen turned his head to Ross. "I think you need some help, Glen. Shall I?"  
  
Thats all right. Ill be fine. Ross had no intention of jacking off before the two of them. While they had been engaged was one thing, but with them both watching? No way.  
  
A slow grin spread across McQueen's face. "Feeling a bit shy, are we?" He gave Silver a kiss as she sat back up. "Why don't you go grab a quick shower? I'll be in as soon as I've helped Glen with his problem." He stood up.  
  
Don't be too long. Silver rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom, unmindful of the semen running down one leg.  
  
Ross started to get up, intent on staying away from McQueen.  
  
With Invitro speed, McQueen reached Ross before he had even reached his feet. He gently pushed Ross back down onto the chair. "Or would you rather the bed? Its quite comfortable."  
  
"Not the bed." Ross felt coherent speech starting to desert him.  
  
Ok.  
  
McQueen knelt, going down on both knees, and freed his friends raging erection. He held it and started to lick it before sucking on it.  
  
When McQueen started sucking him, taking it deep, Ross couldn't help but grip the blond head firmly. To his surprise, McQueen let him set the rhythm. Slower, faster, deeper, shallow, whatever he wanted. The pressure McQueen exerted on his rampant cock remained constant and started to drive him over the edge. Head lolled back, Ross set a fast pace, now desperate to finish. The climax caught him almost unawares and he gasped loudly as he was sucked hard. Breathing hard, he collapsed back against the chair, feeling McQueen still sucking him dry.  
  
Cold glass touched his lips and Ross opened his mouth. The cold liquid soothed the fire in his throat. He opened his eyes and saw Silver holding the glass. The mouth on his flesh released its hold and McQueen stood up, licking his lips.  
  
With her free hand, Silver pulled McQueen to her and she kissed him. Mm. He tastes good.  
  
Yes, he does.  
  
Ross took the glass from Silver. Now what?  
  
We dress and play until we have another winner.  
  
McQueen kissed Silver again before grabbing his clothes. Be just a moment. He headed for the shower.  
  
Are you all right? Silver asked as she started dressing.  
  
Slowly Ross nodded and rose to walk over to his side of the table. Donning his t-shirt and button up shirt, he remained quiet. As he was fastening his shoes, Ross admitted, "It was not quite the way I imagined."  
  
"What?" Buttoning up her uniform blouse, Silver studied Ross face. He appeared introspective.  
  
"Ty seemed almost... well, almost out of control, there at the end."  
  
With a chuckle, Silver answered, "Glen, love, he was still very much in control. Despite everything, I think hes still afraid he might hurt me."  
  
"And when you bit him?"  
  
"I try to time it to just before he comes. It enhances the climax."  
  
"Mm."  
  
McQueen left the bathroom, hair still wet. "Are we ready for the next round?" He resumed his seat.  
  
"Oh, yes. My appetite is wetted now." Silver sat down. She gave Ross a sharp look. "And you?"  
  
"I'm ready... for whatever comes." Ross sat down and reached for the cards. "I believe it is my deal."  
  
Within a couple of rounds, McQueen realized that Silver was aiming for him to win this time. He examined his cards studiously, pondering the effects of his winning. Ross and Silver together. Did he feel uncomfortable with the idea? He almost snorted with the realization that it didn't bother him. She was a vampire and had to bed several other men just to stay healthy. The fact that she wanted to come back to him after each one was what mattered, not who or how many. It was part and parcel of taking a vampire as a mate. Ross and Silver as his two best friends in bed together? That bothered him slightly, but because he didn't want their relationship damaged. The fact that Silver apparently was for it signaled to him that she thought the friendship would survive.  
  
Decided, McQueen ruthlessly drove the bidding up, confident in his cards. Ross hand turned out to be almost as good as his own.  
  
Hand by hand, the game went, McQueen managing to stay ahead barely. Ross didn't want to lose and played hard.  
  
Silver again lost and she laughed, tossing her cards across the table to McQueen. "Here you go. What's your pleasure, love?" She leaned over and kissed him before standing up to take off her bra.  
  
Pretending to be thinking about it, McQueen leaned back in his seat. "Glen could still win the hand."  
  
"Wouldn't matter. He's got two fewer clothes than you." Silver stepped over beside Ross and ran her hand from his shoulder down his back to his buttocks. "So, what's it to be? Do we get dressed again and go another round? Or do we get physical?" She breathed the last in Ross ear.  
  
A shiver went through Ross at the words. He gave McQueen an almost panicked look.  
  
"Go lie down, Glen, Silver's going to make love to you." McQueen motioned for Silver to move over by him. In a low whisper as Ross stared at the bed, McQueen said, "Be good to him, Lysa. Don't drink."  
  
"I intend to and I wouldn't. I already said I wouldn't without express permission. And you gave yours." Silver kissed McQueen deeply. "Are you ok with this?"  
  
Yes.  
  
The touch of reluctance in his voice made her hug him tightly. "You might as well get used to the sight of me and others."  
  
I know.  
  
You can still change your mind.  
  
No. Go on. But I might join you.  
  
Give me a bit with him first. After all, it is supposed to be him and me.  
  
McQueen nodded.  
  
Silver turned and found that Ross was standing beside the bed, seemingly transfixed by the rumpled covers. She padded over to him, approaching from the side, entering his peripheral vision. Resting her hands on his shoulders, Silver licked the back of his neck. Nibbling her way down Ross spine, she let her hands roam freely over his chest and abdomen. Stopping at the base of his spine, Silver pushed Ross gently toward the bed.  
  
He stopped when his legs hit the bed.  
  
With a soft sigh, Silver stood up. She turned Ross around and gently kissed him, coaxing him to respond. He deepened the kiss after a few seconds and Silver eased Ross down onto the bed, busying her hands on his hardening cock.  
  
Gasping for air, Ross broke the kiss off, aware that Silver was kneeling over him, her hands stroking him firmly. "I..."  
  
Don't worry. I won't drink from you. Relax. We're going to make love like everyone else does.  
  
He relaxed, slightly.  
  
From the table, McQueen made himself comfortable by stripping off the last of his clothes. He watched as Silver kissed, nibbled and licked her way down Ross. A low moan escaped him as she sucked the entire length of Ross cock into her mouth; he knew how wonderful it felt and heard Ross soft gasp. Settling back into the chair, McQueen prepared to enjoy the show for a while before joining.  
  
He could see how Silver concentrated on giving Ross enjoyment by using her mouth and hands to excellent effect. Every time Ross started up the road to climax, Silver soothed him back down. Then she moved up to kiss Ross who responded eagerly, and McQueen knew the time had arrived for Ross to mount her.  
  
She held onto Ross as she rolled onto her back. He drove into her depths hard and fast to her delight. To the side, she could see McQueen approaching and she held out her hand to him. "Come on. Join the party."  
  
One arm firmly wrapped around Ross chest, Silver pulled McQueen across the bed so she could kiss him. "God, how I love doing that." She looked up at Ross who had stopped moving. "Something wrong, Glen?"  
  
"Ah, I..."  
  
The surprise on Ross's face when McQueen kissed him made Silver chuckle. "Not going to deny him a good time, are you?"  
  
"No, but what... How..."  
  
"Ty, are you up to a bit of weight? Say if you were under me?" Silver kissed McQueen again, her hand traveling down to caress his rock hard erection. "Are you game?"  
  
"Hell yes." McQueen kissed Silver again.  
  
It took a minute for the change in position. McQueen lay on his back with Silver easing him into her ass. She then urged Ross to continue as he had been  
  
"Come on. You'l enjoy it."  
  
I take it you've done something like this before. Ross stood beside the bed.  
  
I've made love with up to six individuals at a time.  
  
Can we say orgy? whispered McQueen in her ear.  
  
Can we say fun? Come on, Glen. Give it a try. I really think you'll enjoy it. When Ross still hesitated, Silver played her trump card. Sides this way, you control when all of us get to come.  
  
Chewing his lip in lieu of his cigar, Ross stood indecisive. He studied the two on the bed for several more seconds. Then he climbed onto the bed. "A good soldier finishes a job started."  
  
That's the spirit. Silver sighed with pleasure as Ross entered her.  
  
A gasp escaped both men as their cocks rubbed together. With no further urging, Ross started moving.  
  
Silver let her head slide down beside McQueen's. She kissed him. To her surprise, Ross kissed her and then McQueen.  
  
"In for a penny, in for a pound." Ross kissed Silver again.  
  
McQueen started toying with one of Silvers breasts and a few seconds later, Ross began sucking on the other. "Oh yes," she moaned.  
  
After several minutes, Ross experimented with slower, deeper and faster. The point came when he started driving himself hard and fast.  
  
The intense sensation grew too much for McQueen and he pressed up into her as he climaxed with a low groan. The feel of McQueen pulsing in her brought Silver over the edge. As her muscles tightened, Ross gasped and clutched her shoulders as he thrust in hard.  
  
It took Ross a moment to recover. He slid off to the left, slipping free, and watched as Silver rolled to the right, allowing McQueen to resume breathing normally.  
  
"Bath this time," declared Silver. Theres room for all.  
  
I had noticed. This is going to cost us a bundle, paying for all the hot water, remarked McQueen, rolling onto his side.  
  
Included in the bill. I specified unlimited hot water. Silver leaned over and sucked Ross into her mouth. Once he was clean, she kissed him. A bath will do us all some good. It'll revive flagging bodies. Rising, she made a beeline for the bathroom. Come on, you two.  
  
McQueen accepted a hand up from Ross. Might as well.  
  
In the bathroom, Silver had already started the water and sat in the huge tub as bubbles filled the tub. No hanky panky, boys, just a nice relaxing bath. I promise. She began cleaning herself up.  
  
McQueen stepped into the water and sighed gratefully at the fact it wasn't overly hot. He settled in beside her and began to clean himself. Perfect temperature, love.  
  
I aim to please. Silver saw Ross entering the room. Coming in, Glen?  
  
Yes.  
  
Ross sat down opposite McQueen and Silver. As the water enveloped him, he smiled softly. I don't know how I'm going to keep up with you two.  
  
We'll think of something, Im sure. Silver stretched out, her arm behind McQueen's head. If we have to, well take a break and grab some sleep.  
  
Sliding a hand down Silver's front, McQueen murmured, Be a shame to break up the fun.  
  
Well, I don't think Glen is ready for one of the options. Silver brought her other wrist forward. I know I didn't drink but a mouthful, but I want you to take a bit back.  
  
Are you sure?  
  
Yes.  
  
McQueen took her bleeding wrist and took a big swallow. That's more than enough.  
  
Her wrist in her mouth, Silver eyed Ross covertly, curious as to his reaction. He stared at her wrist and licked his lips nervously. Pleased that he had gotten the message, she allowed her arm to slide back into the water and closed her eyes.  
  
A moment later, Ross asked softly, Would that provide me with the strength to keep up?  
  
Most definitely. Silver opened her eyes and smiled gently at him. It's ok, Glen. You don't have to. There are alternatives. Including drugs. I checked the ship's pharmacy with this in mind. There are three different drugs available.  
  
No drugs. Ross shook his head and leaned back.  
  
Like I said, you don't have to. We'll figure something out.  
  
Glen, we don't want you uncomfortable with any of this. McQueen sat straight. If you're uncomfortable, just say the word and we'll stop.  
  
Too late for that. Ross chuckled. I've already been more adventurous than I'd figured on. And this is more sex than I've had since my last leave back home.  
  
Think of it as preparation for greeting Rhonda properly. McQueen grinned.  
  
I think she'll appreciate it, grinned Ross back. But I think I won't divulge all the details.  
  
Just bring her to the wedding. McQueen felt relief when Silver nodded agreement. After all you've done for me over the years, Glen, and all she's put up with because of me, Rhonda deserves to be there as much as you do.  
  
I wasn't sure if I should ask.  
  
Glen, of course you should have. Silver frowned. Now enough. You need to relax for a bit. Don't worry. We won't let you drown in the tub.  
  
"Thanks... I think." Ross slid downward until his head was the only part of him not in the water. He closed his eyes, determined to relax.  
  
Mindful of making waves and of her promise to Ross, Silver turned and sat on McQueen's lap. She kissed him gently and lovingly. I love you, Tyrus Cassius McQueen.  
  
I love you, Lysa Silver. Pulling her against him in a full-length body hug, McQueen asked, Do you have a middle name?  
  
"Gwen."  
  
"A good name." Holding her tight, McQueen satisfied himself with hugging her. He had no intention of making love in the tub until after Glen had relaxed for a while.  
  
Her head on his shoulder, Silver enjoyed the feel of McQueen against her body and his arms wrapped around her. She watched Ross, aware when he slipped into a light doze after five minutes. We've tired him out, she murmured.  
  
He's not a young man any more, love.  
  
Neither are you.  
  
But I'm-  
  
I know what you are, love. That' not it. He hasnt' had enough sex in his life lately.  
  
Nothing to be done about it. We are at war.  
  
And we manage just fine.  
  
Are you suggesting-  
  
Does it bother you?  
  
The Corps won't like it if were found out.  
  
He's Navy.  
  
I know, but he is technically our superior officer.  
  
Yes, he is the officer in charge of the ship. It wouldn't have to include changes to your routines. Your late night get-togethers would allow you the time and place.  
  
But I don't want to ruin the friendship or our time together.  
  
We can work on that, love.  
  
I'll think about it. McQueen hugged her tight.  
  
Better wake him up before he slides down. Silver reluctantly let go of McQueen and slid across the tub to Ross. She gently kissed him.  
  
Ross responded and then opened his eyes. For a second, he looked confused. Then he remembered and relaxed. "Time to get out?"  
  
Fraid so. Silver rose, holding out a hand to both men.  
  
Do we let the water out? McQueen glanced at the drain.  
  
No. You might have noticed that the water hasn't cooled. There's a heater installed to keep the water warm. She stepped out of the tub followed by Ross.  
  
Ross took the towel she handed him and started drying off. Briefly he wondered if he should offer to dry Silver, but when he saw that McQueen also took a towel and began using it, Ross set about finishing.  
  
Silver finished after both men and followed them out into the main room. Ready for another round?  
  
Yes. Ross grabbed his clothes.  
  
Soon they were dressed and back at the table. In three rounds, McQueen knew that Silver intended for Ross to win. He wondered when she planned on winning and realized what would happen when she did. Understanding her plan, he proceeded to participate.  
  
McQueen lost all his clothes first. Chuckling, he pulled his t-shirt over his head. Looks like you win again, Glen. He leaned over the table and kissed Silver. Looking at Ross, he asked, Your pleasure?  
  
I think you two are setting me up. Ross leaned back. When neither answered, merely waited for his instructions, he sighed. Go at it, folks. Enjoy yourselves.  
  
Silver finished undressing and stepped over to Ross. She kissed him. "You'll never forget this time, Glen, and that's the idea. Now just relax and enjoy the show."  
  
As they stretched out on the bed, McQueen asked Silver softly, "He takes me first?"  
  
"I always knew you were smart."  
  
He returned her kiss eagerly. "Then the next time you win, its my turn." McQueen caressed her breast.  
  
"Yes." Silver ran her hands up and down his body.  
  
"The last round?" McQueen nibbled at her throat.  
  
"Yes." She cupped him and tugged lightly, making him moan.  
  
"That'll make three rounds. I don't think he'll make it that far." McQueen parted her legs and slipped a couple of fingers into her dampness.  
  
Don't worry. He'll get some help. Now stop talking.  
  
By the time McQueen and Silver were going at it full bore, Ross watched enviously. He was hard, but not achingly so. He didn't have the energy to keep up with these two. A sigh escaped. Briefly Ross wondered if he should accept Silver's offer of blood. The thought of drinking her blood both enticed and repelled him.  
  
The two lovers were still going strong, Ross noticed. Such energy after this many times astounded him. Clearly drinking Silvers blood had taken years off McQueen's age. For a brief second, Ross envied him and hated himself for that envy. To have that energy had cost McQueen over the years. But he couldn't help fantasizing about having him turn all that energy on him.  
  
"You appear to need a hand there, Glen."  
  
McQueen's voice startled Ross from his thoughts and he jumped slightly.  
  
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." McQueen crouched beside Ross and grinned up at him.  
  
Looking down into the brilliant sapphire eyes, Ross felt his heart lurch. He would pay any price to have McQueen give him the same intense lovemaking. "You missed a spot on your chin."  
  
McQueen gave a satisfied smile and reached up to wipe his chin, but Ross stopped his hand. When McQueen gave him a quizzical look, Ross gave into a sense of inevitability and leaned over to lick the spot clean. The taste of McQueen and Silver blended together made him sigh.  
  
"Glen?" McQueen gave him a concerned look.  
  
"Do you think her offer still stands?" Ross asked in McQueen's ear.  
  
"It does." McQueen reached up and caressed Ross cheek.  
  
"And Ty, do you think there could be more to our friendship? Without endangering it? Or is that too much to ask?"  
  
"We'll see, Glen. There's time for that later. Right now, let me help you with this." McQueen ran his fingers up the length of his friend's firm, but not hard, cock.  
  
You don't need to, Ty. As McQueen used a hand to pump, Ross moaned in pleasure.  
  
But I want to. It pleases me to, Glen. I want you to enjoy this time to the fullest.  
  
Ross moaned again as McQueen's mouth engulfed him and started sucking.  
  
By the time Ross recovered from the resultant climax a while later, he felt drained. Hands were massaging his chest and shoulders so Ross kept his eyes closed.  
  
"You look tired, Glen," came Silvers quiet voice from in front of him.  
  
Eyes still closed, Ross admitted, "I am. I don't have the strength to keep up with the both of you. I don't want to use drugs. But I do want to finish the game." He reached out.  
  
Silver guided his hands to her hips before resuming the massage. "That doesn't leave many options."  
  
"How much would I have to drink?"  
  
"A couple of swallows before each session."  
  
"That many?" Ross opened his eyes to gaze into her emerald green ones. "I'm scared," he admitted. "It's hard to think of doing."  
  
"It's all right. Most people are scared, even those who grow up around my kind. The first time is always the hardest. A bit like the first time you made love. You know the mechanics and what you want to do. But actually doing it scares you to death."  
  
"Yes," breathed Ross.  
  
Silver kissed him. "Would you like a taste now?"  
  
"Are you going to need to drink from me?" His eyes widened.  
  
"No."  
  
Ross chewed his lower lip for a second. "Yes."  
  
She smiled at him and used a canine tooth to cut her wrist. The sight of the blood welling to the surface sent a shiver down Ross's spine.  
  
"You don't want to waste it, Glen." Another set of hands started massaging Ross shoulders. "Just touch your lips to the blood. Suck some in and swallow. Thats all there is to it."  
  
"Easy for you to say."  
  
"Glen, at least you're conscious enough to make the decision. I didn't really have a choice the first time. I was too close to death." McQueen's fingers tightened involuntarily. He loosened them, saying, "Its all right, Glen. Just do it before you lose your nerve."  
  
That did it. Ross bent his head over the proffered wrist and put his mouth over the blood. He sucked hard and nearly gasped. Her blood reminded him of a fruity wine. Two swallows and he lifted his head, aware that the blood didn't actually go down his throat.  
  
Silver licked her wrist. "Close your eyes and picture yourself as rested, full of energy." She kept her voice soft, even and soothing. "It doesn't really matter how you think it as long as you remember the end result you want. Relaxed and energized."  
  
Obeying, Ross thought of his body like a battery being recharged. A tingling sensation swept through his body as he held the image in mind. When the sensation faded, Ross opened his eyes. "It worked. I feel like I did before we started the game."  
  
"Good. Another dose later will leave you feeling even better." Silver smiled. "Now, do you still feel worried about another drink?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Excellent. Shall we continue the game?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Silver started winning steadily.  
  
Down four articles of clothing, Ross looked up at her as he dealt out the next hand. "I have the feeling I might as well concede defeat. You're going to win this round."  
  
"You could still win." McQueen grinned.  
  
Ross gave McQueen a piercing look. "Right. And you have a planet to sell."  
  
With a chuckle, McQueen slid two cards across the table. "Two, please."  
  
Ross dealt out two cards to McQueen. "Lysa?"  
  
"One." She slid a card over and took the one he dealt her.  
  
After a hard look at his own cards, Ross decided to take two. "Two for the dealer." He suppressed a groan at the sight of the new cards, a hand full of nothing except a pair of tens. "Start it, Ty."  
  
Having bluffed his way through the first round of betting, Ross sighed as he set his cards back down on the table. "I fold."  
  
"Fifty," McQueen said firmly.  
  
"Call," came Silver's instant reply.  
  
Silver's full house beat McQueen's two pair. She grinned and leaned back, appreciating the view as the two men both shed their t-shirts. "Very nice, guys. I really like the view."  
  
"You have to keep winning to see more." McQueen gestured to the deck. "My deal, I believe."  
  
Silver lost that hand to McQueen and the next to Ross. Then she won two in a row, causing the men to lose their next to last clothes. As they sat down clad only in their shorts, Silver gave a wolf whistle.  
  
"Down, girl." McQueen deliberately stretched.  
  
"So very glad you're enjoying the sights," drawled Ross. "It's your deal."  
  
Gathering the cards, Silver said, "I've already won. One of you has to lose, even if the other one wins. And as I've got three pieces of clothes left..." She shuffled.  
  
"Do we give her the win or make her fight for it?" McQueen asked Ross.  
  
"Make her fight for it, of course."  
  
Her full house, three queens and two eights, beat McQueen's three tens and Ross's two pair consisting of sevens and nines.  
  
Silver beckoned McQueen over. "Let me help you with that."  
  
She pulled down his shorts and licked him several times. Giving Ross a sultry look, Silver said, "Are you ready?"  
  
Ross stood, stripped off his shorts and stepped over. "As ready as I ever will be." He crouched down beside Silver's chair, daringly running a hand down the inside of her thigh.  
  
"Definitely loosening up," murmured Silver, burying her fingers in the stiff black hair. Then she cut her wrist open and said, "Drink until I tell you to stop."  
  
Before he could change his mind, Ross bent his head and covered the slowly bleeding cut. He swallowed three, four times and started to wonder if he should release her wrist.  
  
Seeming to sense his thoughts, Silver said softly, "One more."  
  
A last swallow and Ross straightened, closing his eyes.  
  
"Now, concentrate. Remember what I told you before. Imagine energy flowing into you." Silver placed her hand on Ross cheek, willing strength into him. After a few minutes, she asked, "How do you feel now?"  
  
Ross looked up at her. "Like I've had six hours of sleep."  
  
"That good, huh?" McQueen looked up from where he lay on the bed. "You, my friend, have not been getting enough sleep."  
  
"Much as I tried, I kept thinking about how things could be done more efficiently." Ross shrugged. "It's neither here nor there." He looked at Silver. "What's your wish?"  
  
"You are going to make love to that gorgeous hunk on the bed." She saw a light in Ross' eyes. "Go on. He's yours for the taking."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"Don't worry about me. Now go and satisfy that lust I see in your eyes." She watched him stand up and turn to look at McQueen. His startled reaction made her chuckle. "Wicked, isn't he?"  
  
"Oh, yes," breathed Ross.  
  
As Ross approached the far side of the bed, Silver ran her eyes over McQueen. He rested on his side, head propped on his left hand and his right leg bent upward. He left the magnificent cock hardening on his lower abdomen revealed. With a sly grin, McQueen licked his finger and ran it up the length of his cock, making it twitch.  
  
Ross own hardening cock responded in kind.  
  
A wicked grin touched McQueen's lips. "That appears to have the desired effect on us both." He wet his finger again and repeated the action. As Ross groaned, responding to the sight, McQueen chuckled. "Definitely affects us both." He wrapped his hand around his cock, slowly moving upward. "Do you enjoy watching me?"  
  
"Y-" Ross had to clear his suddenly thick throat and try again. "Yes."  
  
S"hall I do it some more?"  
  
Ross nodded jerkily, unable to trust his voice, as he sat on the edge of the bed.  
  
With a satisfied smile, Silver sat back to watch the show.  
  
McQueen ran his hand up and down his body over the next ten minutes, showing his friend what he liked. He wiped a bit of pre-cum onto a finger and licked it off, eyes on Ross. Intense desire showed in Ross eyes. Slowly, McQueen reached over and smeared the droplet of pre-cum off the hard, dark cock and licked his finger clean. Ross breathing hitched. Taking what pre-cum remained on his own, McQueen raised his finger to Ross' mouth where it was sucked clean.  
  
That broke the spell holding Ross in place. He started touching McQueen, caressing and kissing. It became a frenzy of hands and mouths giving pleasure.  
  
At last, Ross struggled to his knees. "Dammit, Ty! I want you now!"  
  
"About time." McQueen pulled Ross down for a kiss. "Just take it slow to start." From the nightstand, McQueen pulled a tube of lubricant. He coated Ross liberally before rolling onto his stomach and working some into himself.  
  
"Ty!"  
  
Getting to his hands and knees, McQueen moved over the edge of the bed. "Slow and easy."  
  
"Shouldn't I-" Ross stood behind McQueen, hands resting on the narrow waist.  
  
"It'll be fine so long as you remember slow and easy."  
  
Five minutes later, Ross ran his hands over the sleek, scarred back. "God, you feel so damned good, Ty." Completely buried in McQueen, Ross had to fight the urge to start moving hard and fast.  
  
"So do you. Go ahead. Start moving."  
  
"Slow and easy. Slow and easy," chanted Ross softly to himself.  
  
Soon, Ross could satisfy his desire to speed up. He could feel McQueen thrusting back against him. Reaching forward, he gently caressed McQueens neck navel with his wet thumb.  
  
A low moan accompanied by an intense shudder coursed through McQueen.  
  
"Was that ok?" Concerned, Ross stopped moving.  
  
"Oh, yes, Glen. More than ok." McQueen shoved backward. "Don't stop."  
  
After several minutes of lightly touching McQueen's neck nipple, Ross decided to be daring. He leaned over the bare back and sucked gently.  
  
McQueen bucked and groaned.  
  
"That feels so damned good, Glen," McQueen managed. "Be careful or you'll send me over the edge."  
  
Ok.  
  
Ross returned over and over to McQueen's neck nipple. He sucked once or twice before ignoring it until he felt compelled to return. Each time sucked the raised flesh; McQueen's responses grew more frenzied.  
  
Glen!  
  
Ross nearly jumped when Silver whispered in his ear, If you want him to come, do it hard and fast, same to his navel. Otherwise, Id say slow down.  
  
Realizing he didn't want to slow down, Ross leaned forward as he thrust hard, sucking on McQueen's navel.  
  
McQueen bucked hard, thrusting back, groaning. Come on, Glen. Fuck me!  
  
Doing my best, growled Ross, intensifying his actions.  
  
In minutes, Ross felt McQueen jerk and shudder. The tightening of McQueen's muscles sent him over the edge. When he finally returned to his senses, he found himself on his back, stretched out. Beside him sat McQueen, a washcloth in hand.  
  
Back with us, I see. McQueen grinned. How do you feel?  
  
A bit tired. He suppressed a yawn.  
  
You can rest while we play the next round. McQueen tossed the washcloth to Silver. You're all cleaned up, Glen.  
  
Getting to his feet, Ross asked, How long since...ah...  
  
Ten minutes. We let you doze a bit. McQueen rested his hand on Ross shoulder. Thought you could use the mental break.  
  
Mental break? Ross chuckled softly. This has been anything but mental, my friend. He looked over at where Silver sat at the table.  
  
Oh, is that why you haven't won all the hands? Silver smiled, taking any sting out of the words.  
  
I'm not a superman like Ty here. Ross punched McQueen in the arm. All right, are we ready to get dressed?  
  
McQueen punched Ross back. Just waiting on you.  
  
Each won a hand, leaving them tied after three hands. McQueen won two of the next three while Ross took the third one.  
  
Silver rose smiling and slid her panties off. Ready, Glen?  
  
Win, yet still lose. What a vicious game. Glen stood up, shaking his head.  
  
It drives the game along. Think how long it would take if only one of us lost per hand. Silver kissed Ross, sliding her hand inside his shorts waistband. When she broke off the kiss, Silver dropped the shorts to his ankles.  
  
He followed her passively to the bed, allowing her to push him down. She held her bleeding wrist before him and Ross took several good swallows. Then he leaned back, eyes closed, thinking of how to recharge his flagging strength.  
  
About to tell Silver he was ready, Ross felt her mouth on his groin. A moan of pleasure escaped as she used her mouth and hands to arouse his body. He wrapped his hands around her waist when she mounted him at last. Quickly Ross realized that she intended to have control as she kept him to a slow rhythm, thwarting his desire for speed.  
  
A chest deep groan escaped Ross when he finally came and he arched upward, driven by the intensity. Eyes still closed, Ross lay on the bed as Silver kissed him and dismounted. He felt a mouth on him and let McQueen clean him up before opening his eyes.  
  
"Murder, pure murder. Is that your plan?"  
  
"Ah, you guessed. We planned to murder you by an over abundance of sex." McQueen grinned before leaning over and kissing Ross. "She's soaking so if you want to rest for a few minutes..."  
  
Ross grabbed McQueen and kissed him hard, enjoying the taste of himself and Silver. "Sounds like a grand idea, Ty." He caressed McQueens jaw and sighed. "Damn, I waited too long."  
  
No, Glen. You didn't. I wouldn't have been truly ready for you before now. I would never have fully trusted you again. But it's different now. I've learned enough, I've changed enough. Our friendship won't suffer for any physical activities we do. I love you, Glen, as my first, best friend.  
  
That will have to do. I love you too, Ty. Not enough to marry you, but...  
  
McQueen gently kissed Ross. Good enough. Now rest.  
  
Not a problem.  
  
McQueen waited until Ross eyes closed before heading for the bathtub. He joined Silver in the hot water. He's resting.  
  
Good. Silver lay stretched out in the water, only her head out. Last hand, I think. He needs some serious rest.  
  
Yes. He'll probably sleep for a good ten hours.  
  
With any luck. That would leave him still plenty of time to relax and enjoy himself.  
  
McQueen moved over beside Silver. Lysa, I love you. Thank you for what you're doing with Glen. I appreciate the time you're taking with him.  
  
Not a problem. Now, why don't you relax somewhat, too? Silver sat up and pulled McQueen's head down onto her shoulder. Stop worrying about things. Just relax.  
  
After ten minutes, Silver woke McQueen gently. All right, sleepy head. Let's get out and wake up Glen. It's time for the last round. If you're up to it.  
  
Oh, I'm up for it. I just hope Glen is. McQueen rose to his feet and held out his hand to Silver. He pulled her up and kissed her again. I hope you never get tired of hearing this, but I love you.  
  
Not a chance. The same goes for you. Silver wrapped her arms around his chest. Just touching you makes me want you. But we'll have plenty of time when we retire to our room.  
  
I have to sleep sometime, joked McQueen stepping out of the tub.  
  
Eventually. The sparkle in her eyes told him she was kidding. She joined him and reached past him to get a towel.  
  
Unable to resist the opportunity handed him, McQueen cupped one of her breasts in his hand, kneading gently. Even I have my limits.  
  
I know, love. Silver wrapped the towel around his shoulders and started drying him off. If sleeping is what's on your mind when we retire to our room, then sleep you may.  
  
Grabbing another towel, McQueen returned the favor. I don't know if I want to wait until we get to our room, Lysa.  
  
"Think you'll have enough energy for both?" She crouched and started running the towel down his legs, breathing softly on him.  
  
"I'll find out." He tossed the towel on the floor and pulled her up.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, she led him out into the bedroom, laughing. God, you're fantastic, Ty.  
  
Ross opened his eyes and guessed at what the other two had been up to. Not getting enough, Ty?  
  
"None of your business, Glen." McQueen crossed the room and kissed Ross. "Consider it a down payment on what's to come."  
  
I'm not sure if I should be worried about that statement or not. Ross sat up. How long did I sleep?  
  
Roughly half an hour. Feel better? asked Silver.  
  
Yes.  
  
Good. Silver grabbed her clothes and started dressing.  
  
Sliding off the bed, Ross followed suit, watching the other two dress.  
  
The game under way, Ross knew he was in trouble as Silver started winning steadily. A shiver went down his spine when he realized the only combination that hadn't yet happened.  
  
Glen?  
  
Cursing McQueen's sharp eyes, Ross waved the question aside, concentrating on his cards. He did not know if he would be able to follow through, but he intended to try. It was only fair.  
  
The point came when Ross knew he could not win and neither could McQueen. He looked at Silver. Are we playing after this round?  
  
No.  
  
Then I'm conceding defeat. He laid his cards face down on the table. I can not win and neither can McQueen. So, rather than draw this out, I declare you the winner.  
  
Sure about this?  
  
Yes.  
  
Why now?  
  
Because I have a pretty good idea what is going to happen and I'd rather not continue to wait. I'm nervous enough as it is. Ross met both of their gazes steadily. I might not be able to go through with it if I keep waiting for it.  
  
Fair enough. Silver nodded to McQueen. It's your show.  
  
I thought it was yours, said Ross.  
  
I'm letting him orchestrate it.  
  
Glen, are you okay with this? asked McQueen as he stood up.  
  
Yes. Ross rose and faced McQueen. What do you want me to do?  
  
Why don't you lie down so that you can take a drink. McQueen watched as his friend marched over to the bed and lay down, hands folded on his stomach, tenseness throughout his dark body. Relax, Glen. We'll take it nice and easy.  
  
That seemed to calm Ross down slightly, and some of his tension eased.  
  
Silver sat down beside him and extended her bleeding wrist. Once he'd taken several swallows and closed his eyes, she left the bed and moved away, allowing McQueen to sit down beside him.  
  
Gently at first, exploring, McQueen ran his fingers over the dark, quiet form. As Ross became aroused, McQueen used his mouth, licking and sucking, nibbling, seeking to divert his mind from the ultimate goal. He kissed him and sat back nearly twenty minutes later, pleased with his progress. The lube was cool as he coated his fingers liberally.  
  
Just relax, Glen. I want you to tell me immediately if anything hurts, or even starts to hurt. This is supposed to be pleasurable. Ok?  
  
"Yes. Just get on with it." Ross tried to relax his body. He achieved a semblance of it by reminding himself that McQueen wouldn't hurt him deliberately. "Oh, Ty," Ross said as he felt the lube touching his skin.  
  
McQueen looked at him.  
  
"Forget about that spanking."  
  
McQueen chuckled. Not to worry on that score, Glen. It has nothing to do with this.  
  
Good.  
  
Taking his time, McQueen worked until three fingers moved freely inside Ross. The occasional deep throating ensured that Ross didn't tighten up. Ready to continue, McQueen kissed him once more.  
  
Ready?  
  
If you don't get started, Ty, I'm going to fucking kill you!" growled Ross, writhing from the strength of his arousal. Reaching up, Ross grabbed McQueen, pulling him down for a hard kiss. Now, get started, dammit!  
  
Despite the obvious impatience, McQueen took his time, watching carefully for any sign of pain. He waited a moment once he was fully buried, running his hands over the sweating form beneath him and up the tight thighs resting against his body.  
  
Bloody hell, Ty! Don't keep me waiting.  
  
A wicked grin and McQueen obeyed.  
  
Oh, god, Ty! What you're doing to me! Ross arched upward at the intense sensations.  
  
And I'm only getting started.  
  
McQueen proceeded to teach his friend what it was like to be on the receiving end. Using the lessons learned from Griffin, he drove his friend to the edge and then down again several times. He finally took pity and started them both down the road to finishing. Ross came hard, his back arched, and sobbing with the strength of it. That took McQueen over the edge.  
  
Sinking down onto his elbows, McQueen sighed and gently kissed Ross. "Are you ok?"  
  
A jerky nod answered him.  
  
McQueen pulled away and stood up. "Come on, Glen. Let's get you cleaned up properly." He held out his hand and gripped Ross firmly, aiding him to his feet. "I know you're tired. I promise after we leave, you can sleep all you want."  
  
Beside him, Ross had reached the end of his strength. He stumbled along, held up by McQueen, sinking gratefully into the still hot water. As they cleaned him up, he could barely keep his eyes open. Through the drying off and the walk back to the bed, he let them control his movements. He sank onto the bed, burrowing into the pillow, feeling the blankets being drawn up over him. He never heard the two dress or leave.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Shutting their room door behind him, McQueen yawned. I think Glen has the right idea, Lysa.  
  
"Then get in bed." Silver pushed him toward the bed. She turned him around and unbuttoned his shirt. As she slid the shirt off his shoulders, Silver said, "I enjoyed that immensely." The pants quickly followed. "How about you?"  
  
Clad only in his shorts, shoes and dog tags, McQueen grinned. "Oh, definitely." Another yawn caught him and he smiled ruefully. "And as much as I would enjoy continuing, I need sleep." He sat on the bed and slipped off the shoes. "He wanted to know if we could expand our friendship to include the physical."  
  
"And you said?" Silver started to unbutton her blouse.  
  
"That we would see." McQueen tossed the shoes to the side, out of the way.  
  
"Good answer." She stepped out of her slacks and draped both the slacks and blouse over a chair. The one-piece fabric bra landed on the uniform, followed by her shorts and panties. Her shoes she left under the chair.  
  
McQueen watched critically as she stretched, looking for any sign that the traumatic damage done to her body over the last several months still existed. Her movements were smooth, graceful, and deadly. Another yawn popped his ears and he ruefully acknowledged that there was no way he could continue. "How can you still be moving?" he asked, snuggling down under the sheets.  
  
"Practice." Silver stretched out beside McQueen, smiling gently at him. "Go to sleep, love."  
  
You too.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
She rose several hours later, hungry for more than food. She dressed quickly and quietly, not wanting to wake McQueen. The door closed behind her silently as she entered the corridor. A quick inquiry of the ships computer told her where to look for the shared quarters of Russell, St. John, and Finch. But she figured that they wouldn't be there. Knowing them, they were immersed in a game of cards somewhere. She headed for the first likely place.  
  
Instead of her three, Silver found Hawkes. He spotted her and rose from his lonely seat. She approached, realizing he wanted to talk.  
  
Do you want a drink? Hawkes asked as she sat down.  
  
Yes, but not what you're asking. Silver smiled softly. Something seems to be troubling you, Hawkes.  
  
"Well..." He stared down at his beer.  
  
Silver glanced around the small bar. None of the other members of the 58th were around. Why are you here alone?  
  
West and 'Phousse went to play basketball. Vansen is shooting pool. St. John and Finch are off somewhere. Russell left a little bit ago.  
  
Leaving you alone.  
  
Hawkes nodded once, his gaze still on his glass. I don't want to look for... His voice dropped low. Sex.  
  
And no one in the 5-8 is willing to spend time with you right now.  
  
That and...  
  
Silver saw Hawkes' cheeks flush. Would you like to talk somewhere more private?  
  
Please.  
  
Do you have a private room?  
  
Yes. Hawkes rose and left his beer behind as he led the way out of the bar.  
  
In the small set of rooms rented to him, Hawkes let Silver take the only chair while he sat on the bed, staring at his hands.  
  
Silver waited a moment. Then when he didn't start talking, she prompted him. Ok, whats up, Coop?  
  
Did McQueen tell you what happened the night before we came to extract you? His voice remained low, anxious.  
  
No.  
  
Um, he found us in the shower together, Me, Russell, Finch and St. John. We were-  
  
I know what you were doing. That he did mention to me, just not when it was.  
  
Well, when he was leaving, Russell said that McQueen needed to get laid. I decided to follow up on the idea.  
  
Ah... That could lead to complications.  
  
I know. But he, he needed it. Hawkes looked anxiously up at her.  
  
I don't doubt it.  
  
But, I've been remembering it.  
  
Silver leaned back and closed her eyes. "You know, Coop, somehow I knew you were going to be my problem child." Shaking her head and chuckling softly, Silver looked at him and said, "Remembering and acting it out aren't enough now?"  
  
Hawkes shook his head, the chestnut hair sliding seductively across the broad shoulders.  
  
I think you're talking to the wrong colonel, Coop.  
  
I can't talk to him about this!  
  
Why not? You just did to me.  
  
But you're not him!  
  
Coop, you better get this dealt with now. Our squadron is never going to be under standard military rules, not as long as I'm here. Some bending of the rules can be done, but you have to talk to him about it.  
  
But he's marrying you!  
  
"Coop, I'm not tying him down to just me. I can't do that with a clear conscience. And if you're serious about what you've suggested, you have to talk to him, and you're never going to get a better chance than while we're here. In fact, come with me, Hawkes." Silver rose and her tone of command got him to his feet.  
  
Colonel, I can't!  
  
Yes, you can. Now come on, Hawkes. The sooner you do this, the better all around.  
  
Like a beaten puppy, Hawkes followed Silver through the corridor to her room. She pushed him into the room and stepped in, closing the door. Her hand on his lower back, she steered him over to a chair by McQueen's side of the bed and set him down in it.  
  
Stay.  
  
McQueen murmured as she sat on the bed.  
  
Stroking his cheek, Silver said, Wake up, Ty.  
  
Snapping awake, McQueen's hand gripped her wrist briefly before releasing her. What's wrong?  
  
His concern evident, Silver smiled gently. Nothing's wrong per se. Just you need to do a father-son talk. She gestured toward Hawkes, who tried to make himself small.  
  
"What did you do, Hawkes?" he sighed.  
  
It's not what he did, Ty, it's what he needs to do. He needs to talk to you, in several ways, partly as a lieutenant and partly as a younger man to an older man.  
  
She fixed her gaze on Hawkes. "I'm going to ask him later and you better get this straightened out before I return. Or I will do it. Understand?"  
  
Hawkes nodded quickly.  
  
Good. I'll leave you two alone for now. Silver disappeared out the door.  
  
McQueen sat up, wondering what the hell was going on. He raked his hand through his hair and glanced over at Hawkes. The younger Invitro sat, staring at his clasped hands, head bowed, body rigid. What is going on, Hawkes?  
  
I started to talk to her, but she said I had to talk to you. Hawkes hunched his body even further.  
  
What about? McQueen snapped, irritated by the evasive answer and the fact that he was naked under the bedcovers with no way to get dressed.  
  
Me.... and.... you, came the slow whispered words.  
  
McQueen blinked, unsure he had heard the words correctly, and then he understood why Silver had not come in beforehand to wake him up. "Damnation, Hawkes!" He slammed his head back against the wall, furious with himself for not seeing the possibility earlier.  
  
A glance at Hawkes and McQueen saw him flinch. I'm not angry with you, Hawkes. I should have seen the outcome myself. But I needed it so damn badly, I didn't think ahead.  
  
I'm sorry, sir.  
  
No, I'm the one who's sorry. It was my responsibility. McQueen frowned to himself.  
  
She said, that as long as she is with the squad, certain rules could be bent, ventured Hawkes softly.  
  
McQueen closed his eyes, knowing what was coming and wondering if he really wanted to head it off. The memory of Hawkes magnificently sculpted body under his hands surfaced, sidelining rational thought somewhat. Body reacting to the image, McQueen knew that he'd have to do something about the situation. If he shouldered Hawkes aside cold, things could get very ugly, very fast. Hawkes still had a lot of growing emotionally to do. On the other hand, if he allowed this, he had to ensure that it didn't influence the military side of things. He was the commanding officer and Hawkes had to learn to separate the two issues.  
  
Realizing that he had already made his decision, McQueen turned to face Hawkes, letting the bedcovers fall. "First things first, Coop. The ground rules."  
  
Slowly Hawkes raised his head and the blue eyes glistened. Blinking rapidly, Hawkes nodded.  
  
His voice stern, McQueen said, "Sex between us, or between Silver and either of us has absolutely nothing to do with the military part of things. You remember what I said in the cave when we extracted Silver?"  
  
Yes, sir. We still need to respect your rank and obey. That you'll chew us out if we deserve it. Thats fair.  
  
McQueen nodded slightly. "The same goes sexually, but even more so. Just because I have sex with you before a mission or after does not mean I won' rip you a new one if you screw up. Nothing, but nothing, is going to interfere with getting the mission done, and that includes sex between any members of this squad. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Yes, sir. Hawkes was sitting upright, eyes glued to McQueens.  
  
Any freedoms allowed during sex are not allowed elsewhere. Outside of sexual situations, you will continue to treat all members of this squad with the respect they deserve.  
  
Yes, sir.  
  
No matter how things are working out emotionally between people in this squad, they must continue to work together as a team. Silver and I lead, the rest of you follow.  
  
Yes, sir.  
  
Gentling his voice somewhat, McQueen said, "And, Hawkes, no matter how things fall out between people in this squad, never go on a mission angry with one of the others. Always make peace beforehand. Ok?"  
  
Yes, sir.  
  
Now get out of that flight suit and show me what else you've learned from Silver's rascals, Coop.  
  
Yes, TC!  
  
As Hawkes ran firm hands over his chest, McQueen lowered himself back onto the bed, wondering how much he would be able to handle. "Be warned, Coop, I pretty much exhausted myself with an interesting poker game. Wiped me out, physically."  
  
We'll see.  
  
Hawkes proved he had learned quite a bit. McQueen felt his body responding to the exquisitely light touches and the roaming mouth. When Hawkes raised his head from McQueen's shoulder, McQueen pulled him down for a kiss; pleased by the response Hawkes gave.  
  
Ready when you are, whispered Hawkes, gazing down at McQueen with a knowing smile.  
  
The night stand.  
  
With practiced motions, Hawkes applied the lubricant to McQueen. Where do you want me?  
  
Right here. I'm staying on my back and letting you do the work.  
  
Hawkes blinked, then grinned before straddling McQueen. "Ready?"  
  
When you are.  
  
Watching that well developed body easing down on him, feeling so damned good, made McQueen growl in his throat. He ran his hands up the smooth belly, down the hard working thighs, and teased the twitching cock with light strokes.  
  
Hawkes flung his head back, moaning softly, keeping to a steady rhythm with difficulty as McQueen touched him. Oh, man, that feels so good!  
  
McQueen chuckled, fully enjoying the sight of Hawkes over him. A light sheen of perspiration appeared and he reached up to rub his thumb over a nipple.  
  
A shudder went through Hawkes so he did it again, another shudder coursed through Hawkes. One hand on Hawkes' chest and the other teasing the hard cock, he played with the young body.  
  
Hawkes moaned, drowning in the sensations. The combination proved too much for him and he felt his body climaxing. "'Im-"  
  
Seeing and feeling Hawkes muscles clenching, he covered the tip of Hawkes' cock with his hand, not ready for another shower. He knew his body was too tired to finish the job when he didn't climax with Hawkes.  
  
Hawkes dropped down onto his hands, head hanging low, and his hair brushing McQueen's face. After a moment, he gazed into McQueen's eyes. "You haven't..."  
  
"Warned you, Coop. I think seven is just a bit much to expect in such a short time frame." He cupped the younger Invitro's cheek with his clean hand. "Now, why don't you go clean up and then come back and do the same for me?" A yawn escaped him.  
  
Hawkes nodded and pulled free. In minutes, he was back with a warm washcloth. McQueen slept, shifting slightly as Hawkes handled him, but never waking fully. Before pulling the bedcovers up, Hawkes took the time to admire the exhausted form on the bed, drinking in the sight of the hard body, the scars still fading from his chest. He sat and watched McQueen sleep, keeping to Silver's side of the bed, out of reach in case he inadvertently woke him.  
  
Silver returned from satisfying her hunger two hours later. She smiled on seeing Hawkes, slumped in the chair, sleeping. Shaking his shoulder, she said softly, Wake up, Hawkes.  
  
Snapping awake, Hawkes straightened up.  
  
I take it the talk went well. Now, out. Hes mine. Go sleep in your room. And spend time with the rest of the squad.  
  
Yes, ma'am. Hawkes rose and rapidly left the room.  
  
Stripped down to skin, Silver slid into bed behind McQueen and spooned around him, content. She felt him shift, pressing against her and closed her eyes, settling down for some more sleep. McQueen was hers alone for the rest of the stay. 


	15. Blood and Souls, Chapter Fifteen

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17

Spoilers: None

Warning: Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

Blood and Souls

Chapter Fifteen

During the flight to Goddard Space Station, the 58th polished and prepared their dress uniforms. All of them felt a degree of uneasiness about the up-coming ceremony. For McQueen and Silver it was the realization that they were taking the first step in a major commitment. The rest of the squad could only pray that this worked out.

The transport docked at the station and everyone disembarked, last of all the crew from the Saratoga. The 58th shouldered their sea-bags and Ross carried his beside him as they walked from the transport to the waiting room.

A Navy lieutenant met the group in the waiting room. He saluted Ross. "Commodore, I am Lt. Davis. If you would follow me, rooms have been set-aside near the chapel for the next hour. The chaplain said that the chapel would be available in seventy mikes and only for about thirty mikes, I'm afraid. Is there anything you need?" The lieutenant led the way, talking as he walked.

"Does the chaplain have a script for me?" asked Ross.

"Yes, sir. She said she's been dying for someone to perform the ceremony." The lieutenant grinned.

"Lt. Davis, I need to find out if a package has arrived for me." Silver stayed beside McQueen behind Ross.

"I can check for you. Name?"

"Lt. Col. Silver. From Dr. Silver."

"I'll look into it as soon as I've dropped you off at the rooms, ma'am."

"Thank you."

As the lieutenant started pointing out the sights of the station, McQueen whispered, "What are you expecting?"

"The rings."

"You did pass on to your mother my opinion?"

"Of course. Simple but nice. That plain would be just fine. Ok?"

"Yes."

"Mother said she knew just the set. Nothing flashy."

Shaking his head, McQueen said, "Definitely not. Don't want to advertise to the enemy."

"Exactly." Smiling, Silver touched his hand briefly.

"Here's the chapel. Gentlemen, your room is two doors to the right. Ladies, a door to the left. The doors should be unlocked. Col. Silver, I'll be back after I check the mail room."

In their respective rooms, the wedding party started changing into their dress uniforms, putting on the final touches.

Vansen, still in her flight suit, answered the door when someone knocked ten minutes later. "Yes, lieutenant?"

"Colonel Silver's package, Captain."

"Thank you."

Vansen carried the small package to Silver. "Colonel."

"Open it please, Shane." Silver's hands were covered in silver polish.

To her surprise, Vansen discovered her hands were shaking. The wrapping paper she tossed into the trash. Slowly she opened the black velvet box, tucking the enclosed letter underneath. "Oh, God, they're beautiful," she breathed.

Glancing over, Silver whistled softly. "That's not gold. Is there a letter?"

"Yes." Vansen handed the box to 'Phousse. She opened the letter and started reading.

"Dear Lysa, Hope you like these. I didn't like any of the gold rings. They just weren't special enough for you and McQueen. So when I saw these, I knew they were the ones. A platinum/gold mix. Look inside them. Can't wait for you to get home. Love, Mom."

'Phousse looked inside the rings. "They're engraved with your names, singly."

"Good for Mom. She actually thought about if we're captured." Silver started cleaning her hands. "Shane, would you take McQueen mine, please?"

"I'd be honored." Vansen took the ring that Phousse handed her and left.

McQueen's chest swelled with pride as he entered the chapel an hour later. The sight of his kids in full dress uniform always made him proud and this time it was for a happy occasion. He marched smartly up to the front, stopping before the straight, resplendent figure of his long time friend. He acknowledged the slight smile Ross gave him with the tiniest lip quirk. The chaplain stood to the side witnessing the ceremony.

The chapel door opened and McQueen turned. He swallowed hard, meeting Silver's gaze. The sight of her in her dress uniform brought home exactly what he was about to do. A sense of rightness filled him and McQueen straightened further imperceptibly.

Silver smiled briefly at him before starting down the aisle.

When she stood beside him he turned to face Ross and the chaplain.

Worn bible in hand, Ross gave the group a long look, and then said, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join these two fine Marines in holy matrimony." He paused, clearly enjoying saying the time honored phrases. "Due to time constraints, this will be a brief ceremony. So, as you two have thought this out and decided on this course, I will skip to the relevant portion."

Again Ross paused gazing around the room seriously. "Does anyone object to this marriage?"

Not a word was spoken.

"Then, do we have the rings?"

McQueen nodded and turned to Hawkes. He almost smiled when Hawkes reached into his pocket and started to panic at not finding the ring.

Grinning, West grabbed Hawkes' arm and pressed the ring into the panic-stricken Invitro's hand. "Here. You gave it to me. Remember?"

Red-faced, Hawkes sheepishly handed the ring to McQueen. "Sorry, sir."

"It's all right, Hawkes."

Meanwhile 'Phousse had handed Silver the other ring.

Suppressing a grin, Ross continued. "Very well. We will continue now. Do you Lysa Gwen Silver take Tyrus Cassius McQueen for your lawful spouse, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, through sickness and health, in war and in peace?"

"I do," Silver responded promptly.

"Do you, Tyrus Cassius McQueen, take Lysa Gwen Silver for your lawful spouse, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, through sickness and health, in war and in peace?"

"I do," stated McQueen firmly, his eyes on Silver's face.

"Place the rings on each other's finger."

McQueen took Silver's no longer so rough left hand and slid the ring onto her ring finger. He rubbed her hand briefly before releasing it.

His hand taken by Silver, McQueen watched as she slid the ring up his finger. She caressed his hand before releasing it and smiled briefly at him.

"I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss." Ross beamed.

McQueen threw military protocol to the wind. He pulled Silver to him and kissed her thoroughly, feeling her respond in kind.

When they broke apart, McQueen kept his hands on her. "I love you."

"And I love you."

The sound of swords being drawn caused them both to turn. A glittering arc of steel lined the aisle to the door.

"Must be our cue," muttered Silver.

"Looks like it."

Grinning, McQueen and Silver marched, hand in hand, under the arch to the door. There McQueen stopped Silver and kissed her once more. "I can do it now and not feel guilty."

Everyone followed them into the corridor. The chaplain held out a hand. "A last bit of paperwork, if you please. This way."

The chaplain's office turned out to be the first left from the chapel. She pulled a computer pad over and handed it to McQueen. "I need you each to review the information and then sign the form. Then you'll sign the actual marriage license. I will then be download both forms immediately to all the necessary departments, civil and military."

"And to the address I gave you, please." Silver shrugged. "My family likes to keep the records updated."

"Not a problem. Just double check that I added it correctly at the end of the form."

Reading through the form, McQueen saw that all was in order and signed both forms. He handed the computer pad to Silver.

The chaplain asked, "Who are signing as witnesses?"

McQueen glanced at the squadron and Ross. How could he single out only two? "How many can we have?"

"As many as you like."

"Then, the entire group." McQueen saw Silver nod slightly.

"Very well. Colonel Silver, when you've finished, leave the marriage license up and pass it to the group. Once everyone has signed, I'll download the forms. Then you can catch your transport planet side."

Silver handed the signed computer pad to Hawkes. "Do we have time to change uniforms?"

The chaplain shook her head. "Sorry. You're scheduled for a transport in fifteen mikes."

"Thank you." McQueen turned to the squadron as Vansen took the computer pad from Hawkes. "All right, once you've signed, go get your gear. Hawkes, find out what bay we're leaving from."

"Yes, sir."

A young woman knocked and entered. "Sorry I'm late. Do you want pictures?"

McQueen hesitated, not sure that they would be able to take the time.

"A couple of quick ones." Silver grinned.

McQueen gave Silver a grateful look.

Twenty minutes later, they were all staring out the ISSAPC's windows, hungry for the sight of their home world. McQueen realized that he wasn't dreading the return to Earth, despite the last three occasions. Tucked away in his sea-bag was the data disc with the pictures on it. He'd get them developed before the consort ceremony. The previews looked good though.

The Marine training base Loxley grew below them.

"Never thought I'd be glad to see that place again," murmured Hawkes.

"You know, I wouldn't mind seeing Sgt. Bogus again," West admitted.

The transport landed and the door opened.

Ross left the vehicle first, followed by the two colonels. He turned to McQueen and Silver. "I'm headed home. I'll be there early in the morning, three days from now."

"Yes, sir." McQueen shook Ross' hand. "Say hello to the family for me."

"I will." Ross shouldered his bag and walked to the flight control building.

The rest of the squadron disembarked. They surveyed the landing pad and found themselves facing the ramrod straight, saluting form of Sgt. Bogus. Automatically, the original members of the 58th returned the salute.

"At ease, Sgt." Silver stepped and clapped the craggy faced man on the shoulder. "Long time no see, sergeant."

"Yes, Colonel. I heard you joined the 58th." The sergeant eyed the dress uniforms.

"Indeed I have. In fact, I've joined in a more permanent union with the commanding officer." She could see the shocked looks on the faces of West, Vansen, Hawkes and 'Phousse.

"Colonel?" Sgt. Bogus looked quickly from Silver to McQueen. Then with a grin, he asked, "May I offer congratulations?"

"Of course, Sergeant." McQueen bowed his head slightly.

"Congratulations, colonels." The sergeant hesitated, then said, "I see a member of the squad is missing."

Vansen answered. "Lt. Wang is on medical leave. He had the misfortune of being a POW for four months."

A grimace and Sgt. Bogus said, "I've followed your exploits, 5-8. I'm proud of you. All of you." He looked Hawkes in the eyes. "You've proven me right once again. I saw something special in you, but I didn't know if you would live to find it. I'm pleased to see you alive and well."

"We're pleased to see you, too, Sergeant," West said.

Sgt. Bogus turned back to Silver. "Colonel, I have a message for you about your transportation. It has been delayed thirty mikes."

"Thank you, Sergeant. I think we'll wait in Asteroids then. Care to join us in a drink?"

"I would be honored, Colonel."

Sea-bags over their shoulders, the group marched across the flight line, Sgt. Bogus between Silver and McQueen.

"You've managed to bury your adventures, Colonel."

"Not all of them. The 1-12 was a good unit."

"Yes. One of the best. They rarely got the recognition they deserved. But you have a habit of dropping out of sight for long periods of time."

"Not any more, Sergeant, not any more." Silver grinned. "I'm with the 5-8 now and plan on staying there. Come hell or high water. And the Chigs. I'm not that wet-behind the ears recruit you first met." Her voice lost all banter. "I've seen and done things that would make your blood run cold, Sergeant. Things that even the men who ordered it would turn pale if they saw the results. I grew up fast, on the battlefield and other places I can't say."

Bogus shook his head. "You were never wet-behind the ears, Colonel. When I saw you, I knew you were here to learn what we had to teach you. You were never going to be the soldier who blindly follows orders, no matter the cost. You had what it took to become a real leader, if you wanted to. You also had what it took to become a rebel. I could only hope you decided to become a leader."

"I'm both, Sergeant."

On the other side of the flight control center, they found a truck parked at the curb, just starting up. The driver leaned across the seat. "Need a lift?"

"Asteroids," McQueen stated.

"On the way. Hop in back, folks."

The truck dropped them off outside the officers' club. Inside it teemed with the crowded multitudes that all base clubs enjoyed. Music blared, smells assaulted the nose and voices babbled, still talking about sex, flying, and sex while flying with the war thrown in.

A momentary silence fell over the room as the 5-8 entered. McQueen led the way to a large table near the entrance. As they started sitting down, a young voice asked, "Who are they?"

Then a rough voice answered, "The Wildcards, the 58th."

Swiftly, a slim brunette waitress hurried over. "What would you like to drink?"

The younger members of the squad ordered beers. McQueen went for a scotch, and Sgt. Bogus had bourbon. Silver looked thoughtful. "Too bad you don't serve lagers. I'll take a beer."

McQueen raised an eyebrow. "A beer?"

"I do drink them from time to time. I prefer a stout, porter or a lager, though. Which is why you don't see me drink beer in the Tun."

"There's still a lot I need to learn about you." McQueen leaned back in his chair.

"I can say the same."

The drinks arrived quickly. Sgt. Bogus took his bourbon and gave the 58th a silent salute, drinking the bourbon down quickly. "Again, congratulations, Colonels. May your life together bring you more happiness than pain."

"Thank you, Sergeant." Silver watched as Bogus stood up. "Take care, Sergeant. You train them right."

"Thank you, Colonel." Bogus looked the group over quickly. "I hope to hear more about you, 5-8. Take care of yourselves."

"Yes, sir," the original members responded.

As Bogus walked away, Silver sipped her beer. She waited until the overall level of noise in the club had returned to near normal. "How many are coming to my family's place first? I know Russell, Finch and St. John are. What about the rest of you?"

The four in question glanced at one another. Then Vansen asked, "Can we get transportation to visit our families?"

"A vehicle can be made available, or if you prefer, a chauffeured one. That way you could get some sleep. After all, you do need to see the tailors if you're going to wear anything that fits."

Vansen glanced at West and 'Phousse who both nodded. "Then we'd like to come with you. We want to see Paul."

"Thought you might. Where do you need transportation to?"

"San Diego," said Vansen.

"Chicago," 'Phousse said softly. "Dad's working there this year."

"Farmington, Pennsylvania," West admitted. "Hawkes, did you want to come and visit?"

Hawkes shook his head. "Nah. You need time with your family. And they don't like me. Besides, doesn't Kylen live nearby?"

"Only a mile."

With a wry grin, Hawkes said, "You don't need me then. Three's a crowd."

'Phousse gave Hawkes a concerned look. "Where will you stay?"

"If it's all right, with Paul." Hawkes looked at Silver. "Is that ok, Colonel?"

"There's plenty of room, Hawkes. And I'm sure Paul would appreciate the Marine company." She smiled. "Rather than a lot of medical types."

The door opened and Silver glanced over her shoulder. "Drink up, folks. Our ride is here." She rose. "Gayle!"

"Sa!" A tall, willowy blonde in a Marine colonel uniform approached the table, arms outstretched. "God! It's good to see you."

As the two women hugged, McQueen recognized Gayle as the woman who had taken the pictures of him. Not a beautiful woman with her blunt nose and square jaw combined with a thin mouth, but her figure ensured that men didn't notice her face first.

Gayle held Silver by the shoulders, looking her friend over critically. "You have looked better, Sa. But from what I've heard you're lucky to be alive at all." The blue eyes flashed over to McQueen, then back to Silver. "I see you finally got him."

"It took some doing, but yes." Silver chuckled softly.

McQueen stood up. "Colonel."

"Colonel McQueen, I hope you're ready for her. She's wanted you since she fell for you at first sight, here in this place." Gayle gestured to the surrounding club.

"I know. And I am."

"Good. She needs a strong man." Gayle smiled. "Now, I have the privilege to fly you all to the lovely Northwest. So, let's get going."

Silver drank the last of her beer. "Which one?"

"The Phantom 2200."

"Perfect. Just the thing." Silver grabbed her sea-bag and hoisted it on her shoulder. "Ready to go, folks?"

"Yes, ma'am," echoed the group, empty glassware slapping down onto the tabletop.

With in a minute, the 58th had vanished from the Asteroid Club. Their table remained empty for nearly fifteen minutes.

A quick trip by another truck back to the flight line and the group was back where they had started. As they walked through the flight control building to the flight line, McQueen caught sight of their transport. The large vehicle had sleek lines and nothing about the streamlined craft even remotely looked military, though it easily could have held three interstellar transports. A door up near the front opened as they approached.

"Everyone please board." Gayle gave a half bow and waved everyone aboard. "Enjoy the flight."

The younger members of the squad rushed aboard.

"No co-pilot this time?" Silver paused at the junction leading aft and forward to the cockpit.

"Sa, you and the groom are free to join me anytime." Gayle disappeared in the direction of the cockpit.

"Paul!" Hawkes' excited voice echoed up the corridor.

Silver motioned for McQueen to precede her and he speedily did so, heading for the rear. The narrow passageway opened up into a large, windowed room after ten feet. There the squad carefully surrounded Paul Wang, in his Marine uniform.

On his feet with the help of a cane, Paul smiled at them all. "I've waited for this day for so damned long." He straightened and saluted McQueen and Silver. "Lt. Wang, reporting for duty, sir, ma'am."

Setting his sea-bag on the deck at his feet, McQueen returned the salute. "As you were." He saw Silver doing the same.

"Paul, are you well enough to come back with us?" asked 'Phousse hopefully.

"My doctors think so. I'm not combat ready, not by a long shot, but I can fly a desk until I am. Jake thinks with in a year I'll be one hundred percent recovered." The Asian lieutenant grinned widely.

"Did you know about this?" McQueen asked Silver quietly.

"No. Jake just mentioned that he was doing well."

"He looks good." McQueen still remembered how pale Wang had been when going through the tank process.

"A lot of outside work, I'd guess."

"Sir," interrupted Paul. "I received confirmation this morning from the Corps that I may return to the Saratoga with you. I will be filing reports and the like, but I'll be there."

"Excellent. We have missed you."

"Thank you, sir. I need to continue my physical therapy, but if I stay with it, Jake says I should be ready for flight simulators in six months." Wang held up his right hand. "I have most of my mobility in this hand now, but not quite enough for the joystick. I know," Wang grinned again, "because I keep trying to use a simulator."

"Way to go, Wanger!" Hawkes started to slap Wang on the shoulder, thought better of it, and gripped Wang's left arm. "It'll be great to have you back."

"Yeah, you need to cream him in foos ball again, Paul." West tossed his sea-bag in a corner and sprawled on a chair. "He's been insufferable since you're not there to take him down a peg or two."

"I'll do my best!"

McQueen felt a subtle increase in his weight and glanced out a window. They were taking off. He glanced at Silver questioningly.

"Gayle's an excellent transport pilot. Just doesn't have what it takes to be a fighter jock."

"Why is she here on Earth? Why isn't she flying with a fleet?"

"She had the misfortune of getting caught in space when the Chigs showed up here. Her ship was hit. Her co-pilot, Mike, was her husband. He was in the cargo unit trying to man the roof gun. A Chig fighter blew a hole in the cargo unit, a big hole. Gayle barely managed to close the cockpit door in time. Then she lost engine power. She was trapped alone in space for over five days with only auxiliary power, just enough to keep her from freezing to death. Now, it is all she can do to handle short trips in space. It was a big deal when she managed to fly to Jupiter with General MacIntyre."

"If she's in space for longer?" McQueen shifted his sea-bag over against the wall nearest the cockpit.

"She becomes extremely claustrophobic. She nearly managed to open the airlock on a test run. They weren't ready for the sheer magnitude of her reaction." Silver sighed. "Gayle is a good friend, but not even for me will she leave this system."

"Too bad. We could use someone with her skills."

"Never going to happen, I'm afraid. You know, if you want to, you can go up to the 'pit. I'm sure she'd love to introduce you to the Phantom 2200. And I'm sure if you charm her, she'll even let you fly it for a while."

McQueen's eyes lit up. "Do you think so?"

"I know so. Go on."

"If you're sure?" When Silver nodded, McQueen kissed her cheek. "Then thanks."

As McQueen went forward, Silver hefted her sea-bag again. She signaled Finch that she would prefer to be alone before entering one of the compartments to the rear of the squadron. When Silver re-emerged fifteen minutes later, she had changed into a regular flight suit.

Finch waited until Silver had disappeared into the aft most compartment before saying, "Don't you think we should change?"

The squadron used three of the nearest compartments to change in. When Vansen informed McQueen, they were changing uniforms, he decided to as well and left the cockpit long enough to change. Noticing that Silver was nowhere to be seen, McQueen asked Finch.

McQueen knocked on the aft compartment door. "Lysa?"

"Come."

McQueen entered and found Silver stretched out on the floor. "Is something wrong?" He crouched beside her.

"No, love. I just need a bit of time to myself."

"I'll leave then."

She stayed him with a hand on his knee. "You can stay if you want, Ty. I just wanted to prepare for the trials."

"Do you want me..." His voice trailed away, unsure of what exactly he was asking.

She chuckled softly and wickedly. "Ty, I want you more than the air I breathe or the life I drink and I can't have you until after the consort ceremony." When his cheeks turned pink, Silver said, "Really should finish some of those sentences, you know. It's all right with me if you go fly, Ty."

"We'll be there in an hour and I would really like to try my hand at the controls, but..."

"Go on, Ty, enjoy yourself." Silver caressed his jaw and closed her eyes, letting her hand drop down to her stomach.

"I'll be back in a bit then, Lysa." When she smiled knowingly at him, he ran his fingers over her cheek lightly.

He returned to the cockpit. Sitting down in the co-pilot's seat, he asked, "Do you know what these trials are?"

Gayle shook her head. "No. They're pretty close mouthed about that sort of thing. It's like pulling teeth or getting a tank to talk about their past."

"That bad, hm?" He gave her an subdued smile.

"A lot of the time. But it's worth it."

He nodded. "Lysa mentioned advising Cassie to have you join her circle. Did she?"

"Yes. I'm a part of Cassie's circle as well as Lysa's."

"She's a good kid."

"Yes, she is." She glanced at McQueen. "Are you on or off duty now?"

"Despite the uniform, off duty."

"May I speak frankly?"

"Yes, by all means." His curiosity raised its head.

"I think this is the best thing that has happened to either of you. I don't know you personally very well, Colonel, but I've talked to Jake, Griffon and Lysa. If you commit to making this work, you'll never regret it. The most important thing to remember is communication. If something Lysa is doing bothers you, talk to her and listen to what she says. Sometimes it's a vampire thing, but it could also be just her way of doing things. She has to do some adjusting as well. It's a two-way street. It'll take both of you to make this work. And whatever happens, never stop telling her you love her. You never know when it'll be the last time." Gayle choked up.

"Did you get to say good-bye?"

Gayle shook her head jerkily. "One second he was there, the next... it was all I could do to save myself. My duty kept me going. Now I have Cassie and the others, but it still hurts. I'm just glad we didn't argue beforehand."

"It would have been harder, I imagine."

Nodding, Gayle cleared her throat. "Do you want to fly this baby?"

"If you don't mind." Taking the controls, he knew she needed a break from the conversation.

The Phantom 2200 exceeded all of McQueen's expectations. He had thought space fighters like the SA-43 were among the most responsive craft he had flown, but the Phantom easily equaled them. A couple of indignant yells sounded when he overcompensated for a flock of geese in the flight path.

"Hey, who's flying this crate?"

"I am, Hawkes," McQueen called back over his shoulder, leveling the craft back out.

"Oh, sorry, sir."

"I'm the one who dropped the floor out from under you." McQueen grinned at Gayle. "Is it space worthy?"

"For short distances. It is mostly an atmospheric craft."

"I can see why you would love to fly it." He eased back up to the correct altitude. "It's as sensitive as a Hammerhead. If not more so."

"Thanks, Colonel. But I think I'll stay atmospheric."

"I understand."

McQueen took the Phantom through a series of turns and horizontal zigzag maneuvers, always returning to the proper heading. When Gayle regretfully told him that they would be landing soon, he returned control of the Phantom to her.

"Thank you. I enjoyed that."

"You're welcome. I thought you would."

McQueen made his way back to where the squad sat, still talking animatedly with Wang. Finch, Russell, and St. John watched quietly from the edges of the group, listening.

"Colonel." Wang looked up at McQueen. The others quieted down.

"Yes?"

"I appreciated the letters you sent."

"I hope you understood what was behind them."

"Yes, sir. I do."

McQueen nodded. "We'll be landing soon."

"Good. I'm getting hungry." Wang smiled a bit self-consciously. "I've been eating a lot lately. Guess it must be all the exercise."

Giving Wang a critical look, McQueen saw that the young man was no longer as slim as he used to be. Muscle filled out the shoulders, chest and legs. "How much can you leg press now?"

"I just reached 200." Wang grinned. "Pretty good considering I couldn't even do a pound when I got out of the tank."

"You've made excellent progress."

"Thanks, Colonel. By the way, sir, congratulations."

"Thank you." McQueen sat in a chair. "Is Jake your PT?"

"Unfortunately yes." Wang laughed quietly. "He pushes me hard, but he's always there if I collapse."

"Does that happen often?" 'Phousse asked anxiously.

"Not now. At first, I couldn't even stand up. Then when I could at least stand, I had to learn how to walk all over again. I fell down a lot at first, but with the help of this cane, at least I can walk at a decent pace."

"A desk doesn't require you to run around a lot." West nodded to Wang. He turned to McQueen. "Sir, will Paul actually be able to return with us to the Saratoga?"

"If the Corps has cleared him for duty, I don't see why not." McQueen stretched his arms over his head. "I'm sure we can find a suitable office for him until he's ready for flight and combat." Through a view port, McQueen noticed that they were descending vertically. "Looks like we're landing."

"We took off from here just before lunch," commented Wang.. "Apparently this is Patrick's car."

"He's here for the wedding?" Russell sounded like he was attempting to be casual.

"Yes. He arrived yesterday. With a cargo of Scotch." Wang smiled. "Really good stuff."

"They're letting you drink?" McQueen remembered Jake had forced him to stay dry until after he had finished re-qualifying.

"As treats for reaching certain goals." Wang looked sheepish. "And we all considered being cleared for duty as a qualifying event."

"And it is, lieutenant." Silver stood at the rear of the compartment. "I just reviewed the Corps' notice. Your accomplishments far outstripped what they expected of you." She met McQueen's eyes briefly before turning back to Wang. "I know it can be hard to do, but do remember to thank Jake, Lieutenant. When the Corps expressed doubt that you would ever be fit for any sort of duty, he insisted that you would be. He kept you on the rolls. And you proved his faith in you."

"I know they were pretty skeptical, especially the first several times their doctors examined me. But I didn't realize they were thinking of discharging me." Standing up, holding onto his cane tightly, Wang met Silver's gaze frankly. "Colonel, I appreciate everything your family has done for me. I can't repay you."

"I'm sure we'll think of a way." Silver gave a quick smile.

In a serious tone, Wang asked, "Is being a Remal out of the question? Because I'm willing to do that." He noticed the surprised looks the rest of the squadron was giving him. "What? Don't tell me you don't know about her?"

"We know. How did you find out?" demanded Vansen.

"After spending nearly a year surrounded by vampires, you have to ask?" Wang shook his head. "But I didn't learn the truth until after Cassie went missing. I mean, here I was, Jake hightailed it out of here without a single word of warning, leaving me in Jenny's capable care. She kept dropping cryptic comments all over the place. Cassie started asking me questions that she answered herself, and then disappeared. Jenny started saying things like 'Silver's too strong... if the craving... Cassie's just like her mom, changing early.' Things like that. Tends to make a fellow suspicious. I started adding up the clues and confronted Jake a few days after he and Cassie returned."

"As much as I would like to hear the rest of your story, Lieutenant, we better off-load." Silver nodded toward the exit. "We have a reception committee waiting. Lieutenant, if you would lead the way?"

"Yes, ma'am." Wang started for the exit, hooking his cane over his forearm.

The rest of the 58th grabbed their sea-bags and followed.

Silver caught Russell's arm. "A word of advice, Russell. Don't chase after Patrick. Be yourself and he'll come to you."

"Yes, Silver," Russell said softly.

"I'm not discouraging you, Russ. But men and women chase him all the time. Be his friend first. He doesn't have very many of them outside his circle."

Russell nodded and left.

"Is there a reason Patrick has trouble making friends?" McQueen asked quietly.

"Real friends, yes. He's learned not to trust people who chase after him. You'll understand when you meet him." Silver hefted her sea-bag. "Let's go meet the entire family."

A small crowd waited at the foot of the ramp. The 58th stood to one side with Paul. McQueen recognized most of the people from his previous stay. Three of the men he didn't recognize. One seized McQueen's attention immediately.

McQueen halted in the doorway, a bit overwhelmed. Black hair, green eyes, magnificently built body, the man embodied every woman's, or man's, fantasy about tall, dark and handsome.

"Patrick?" McQueen managed with a mouth gone dry.

"Yes. Now you know how the various vampires react on seeing you." Silver chuckled. "Just treat him like you want to be. He'll appreciate it."

"If you say so." McQueen tore his eyes from Patrick. "Who are the other two? The one in his thirties, brown haired, good looking?"

"Gregory."

"The Gregory?"

"Afraid so. I didn't know if he would be coming or not. He's usually pretty busy."

"Ok." McQueen exhaled nervously. "And the other one?" Standing near Cassie, the stranger had blond hair, blue eyes, and also good looking.

"Peter. My younger brother, not a vampire, and happy not to be." Silver rested her hand on his lower back. "Nervous?"

"A bit."

"Don't worry. If you start to feel overwhelmed, just tell them you need some room. They'll back off."

"Ok." McQueen took a deep breath. "Let's get this over with." He started down the ramp.

Silver followed, watching her family. No one rushed up to McQueen, understanding his need for room instinctively. The first to approach were her parents.

Holding his hand out, Charles Silver said, "You're looking good, McQueen. Glad to see it."

"Thank you, sir." McQueen shook the older man's hand, feeling the firm grip as he set his sea-bag down. "Sir, I -" He faced Silver's father who matched him in height though heavier in the body.

"No need to explain, son. I'm glad she picked someone like you. There's more than enough courage and heart in you to keep up with my daughter." He pulled McQueen close and briefly hugged him. "I'm proud to add you to the family, McQueen."

Awkwardly, McQueen returned the hug. "I've never had a real family, sir."

"It'll take some time, but you'll get used to the idea." Charles stepped back, releasing McQueen.

Nearly a head shorter, Ruth Silver reached up to gently touch McQueen's cheek. "I know how most Invitroes hate to be touched, but I think you'll have to get used to it. We're a very tactile race. I'm very happy you're becoming a part of our family. You're a brave man, McQueen, and I believe you are up to the challenge my daughter poses." She dropped her hand with an impish smile.

McQueen realized Ruth didn't intend to crowd him any further. He gave into impulse and hugged her. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Bear with me, please."

"We'll give you all the time and space you need." Ruth held him out at arm's length and ran her eyes critically over his form. "You haven't been eating enough."

"I've been eating well for the last couple of days."

Ruth chuckled. "I'll bet. Now, we need something besides McQueen to call you."

"T.C. or Ty will do."

"Hm. T.C. is not quite as intimate as Ty so we'll go with that. All right?"

McQueen nodded.

Squeezing his arm once, Ruth stepped to the side. "Ok, everyone. I know you want to badger Lysa and T.C., but we do need to get them to the tailors. So keep it short. There'll be plenty of time later to start involved conversations."

Everyone nodded.

Cassie broke free of Jake's hold and ran to her mother. "I'm so glad you're home."

Hugging Cassie tightly, Silver smiled at her daughter. "Good to be home, kiddo."

Cassie gave McQueen a grin. "Do I get to call you Dad?"

McQueen blinked in surprise. He hadn't even considered the question.

"No, scamp, at least not to start with. Let him get comfortable with the idea of a family first." Silver ruffled Cassie's hair.

"Ok, Mom." Hooking her arm around McQueen's waist, Cassie said, "Come on, T.C. Let me introduce you to Peter, Patrick and Gregory." She walked him over to Patrick first after he picked up his sea-bag. "Uncle Pat, this is T.C. McQueen. He likes your scotch."

McQueen gave Cassie a mock frown. "Stop telling on your elders." He received an impudent grin so he held a hand out to Patrick. "Lysa's told me you're currently running the distillery."

Patrick's voice rolled over McQueen, smooth and velvety. "And she drinks all I can send her." He laughed softly as he shook McQueen's hand firmly.

"She gets some help." McQueen gestured to where the squad stood watching. "They appreciate the scotch as well."

The squad nodded enthusiastically.

"As long as it's appreciated, I'll keep sending it."

Cassie reached up and pulled Patrick's head down so she could kiss his cheek. "You'll like T.C., Uncle Pat."

"I'm sure I will, pet." Patrick nodded to McQueen and stepped aside.

"This is Gregory, T.C." Cassie gave Gregory a bright smile. "He's the leader of the Family."

McQueen frowned slightly at the emphasis she put on the last word.

"The Family is what we call ourselves," explained Gregory. "Vampire and Remal together make up the Family." His baritone voice resonated with authority. "I am pleased to meet you. I always wondered who Lysa would join with." Gregory held out his hand.

McQueen found that Gregory's handshake reflected his aura of authority. "Pleased to meet you too, sir."

"No need to sir me. Just call me Gregory."

"Yes, s... Gregory."

Gregory smiled warmly. "Don't let anyone intimidate you, T.C., least of all me. You'll do just fine as Lysa's consort."

"Thank you... Gregory."

Peter stepped up. "Might as well finish the introductions. I'm Peter, Lysa's baby brother. Following in our father's footsteps, I'm hoping to improve the Invitro healing and regeneration process."

"A greatly neglected field outside this family." McQueen noted that Peter's gaze met his squarely. "Hope you're up to the battle from both sides."

"Definitely." Peter's grin held genuine amusement. "Considering I've married an Invitro. Unfortunately, she was unable to be here today. But you'll meet Cheryle before the wedding."

"Looking forward to it." McQueen allowed Cassie to drag him away.

"Uncle Pete had to tell you." Cassie shook her head. "He's still trying to prove himself worthy of the Silver name. As the only Remal child, I think he feels inferior despite the fact that Grandpa and Grandma were overjoyed to have a Remal child at last."

"That's a very grownup view," McQueen commented as Silver appeared on his other side. They were headed for the main entrance.

"It's all the responsibility we get as children," remarked Silver. "We have secrets to hide from the general public. And we start hiding them from a very young age." She looked at her daughter. "And you, young lady, do not need to give a breakdown of everyone's weaknesses. He can figure them out for himself quite nicely. There's a very keen intellect hidden behind those cool blues."

"Sorry, Mom. Sorry, T.C. I'll try to stop. It's just hard to do when I'm taking psych."

McQueen nodded. "You start analyzing everything everyone does. But you have to keep it under control. Otherwise, you become paranoid."

"There, a voice of experience in addition to my own." A stocky man appeared in the doorway, brushing back his light brown hair. "She's been a handful since she came back and started that damn class." He held out a hand. "Hi, I'm Roger. Cassie's told me a lot about you."

McQueen shook the hand of the closest thing to a rival he had. "I understand you did the painting and murals around the place. I enjoyed the ones I saw during my previous stay."

A warm smile and Roger said, "They're all new now. I'm always changing them. Much to Charles' mock irritation. He says he just gets used to them and then they're gone."

"I'll make sure to wander around then."

Roger corralled Cassie. "We'll show you to your rooms."

"The squad-" McQueen started to say.

"I think Paul and my parents have them well in hand." Silver gestured toward where the 5-8 were talking to Paul and her parents.

McQueen nodded and followed Cassie and Roger inside with Silver at his side. He discovered that the quarters he had were not that far from the ones where he'd stayed before. Finding his way around would be that much easier.

At the door, Roger said, "It's two. Dinner will be at the usual time. The tailors will be by in thirty minutes. They should be finished no later than three-thirty. We'll see you at dinner."

McQueen turned to Silver as Roger and Cassie headed down the hall. "Now what?"

"Unpack, shower, relax, read." Silver stepped up and kissed him. "I won't see you until dinner."

"The trials you mentioned?"

"Yes. The sooner I start, the faster I finish them. I'll see you whenever I can, Tyrus Cassius McQueen. I love you."

Before she could move away, McQueen wrapped his arms around her tightly. "I remember what else you said, so I won't try to seduce you. But will we have any quiet private time together?"

"Yes, I promise."

McQueen nuzzled her hair briefly. "I love you, Lysa." When she reluctantly pulled away after a moment, he let her go. "See you later, love."

"You, too."

Once she had left his sight, McQueen threw his sea-bag into the room and headed for the shower.

Dinnertime arrived and McQueen felt satisfied with himself. The tailors had been efficient and also Invitroes, so they had taken into consideration his slight differences. Afterward, he had reacquainted himself with the buildings around the estate. During his explorations he had discovered that the 5-8 were quartered not too far from him.

West, 'Phousse and Vansen had already left in two different vehicles. West and 'Phousse were headed east while Vansen traveled southward. Most of their gear remained in the rooms assigned them with the rest of the squad.

Entering the dining room, McQueen smiled to himself, pleased that he had chosen to dress nicely, but comfortably. The various members of the Silver clan already there were dressed in nice casual clothes.

He strolled over to the bar where Jake sipped a drink, scotch by the smell.

"Settled in, McQueen?"

McQueen nodded, pouring himself a scotch. He took a sip. "Will Lysa be able to join us for dinner? Or is she still busy with the first trial?"

"She should be here." Jake paused, then said; "Don't be too surprised if she gets a bit irritable over the next couple of days."

"She warned me."

Hawkes entered with Wang at his side. Wang had apparently rustled up some suitable clothing for Hawkes, though the young invitro looked distinctly uneasy.

McQueen poured two more scotches and waved the two squad members over. He handed out the scotch as Jake moved away toward his parents. "Finding your way around, Hawkes?"

"Paul's showing me." Hawkes sipped his drink. "Did the others leave already?"

"I saw them off an hour ago."

"I know Nathan felt awkward about going home. It'll be the first time since his brother died." Wang shrugged. "I couldn't help much. My family's been here every two weeks. And they call every other day."

"Maybe I should have gone with him," muttered Hawkes.

"Not if his parents are feeling the way he said," McQueen stated. "That would only have made matters worse."

"I don't know how to help him."

"Just be here for him when he gets back. If he doesn't say anything, don't ask." McQueen straightened, watching covertly as Charles and Ruth entered the room. Behind them strolled Cassie and Roger. "He'll appreciate the support whether he says so or not."

Silver stepped into the room as Jake left and met McQueen's anxious look with a weary smile. She ambled over to the bar. "Don't stop whatever discussion you've got going." A double scotch in hand, Silver stared at it for several seconds before draining it completely. "One down, five to go," she muttered, setting the empty tumbler back on the bar.

The rest of the squad trickled in and Silver played bartender for everyone before moving up next to McQueen. "Finding enough to keep you occupied?"

"Definitely. I'm hoping to get Hawkes out on some of the runs Jake gave me. He could use the hard exercise."

"I heard that, Colonel."

"You were supposed to, Hawkes." McQueen smiled as he looked down at Silver. "Are you done for tonight?"

"No. One more tonight. Talk to Jake about the run. He can arrange to get you wherever you want to go for your little jaunt."

Jake reentered the room, intoning, "Please take your seats. Dinner is served."

Everyone took their assigned seats and servers started bringing out the food. McQueen knew when Hawkes realized that the servers were Invitroes. As Hawkes stiffened on his left, McQueen said quietly,

"They are well paid and they've already eaten. Most of the staff here are Invitroes, Hawkes. All bought and paid for, but freed after two years of schooling and training. Most stay here."

On the other side of Hawkes, Paul said, "The Silvers have the largest, well paid staff of Invitroes in the country, Hawkes."

"How do you know? Did they tell you that?" Hawkes asked sharply.

"I used the Web. Remember, I have contacts through it. I did some surfing while I was bedridden." Paul accepted a plate from a male server. "From what I discovered, there is an extensive schooling and training program available."

"The emphasis is on medical," commented the server, "but considering who the family is, that's not surprising."

"And if you aren't interested in medical training?" Hawkes stared at the server.

"They find teachers for whatever you're interested in. My daughter is musically inclined and is taking lessons already at the age of two. For free." The man shrugged. "I could never afford the schooling she is getting out there."

"Can you leave if you want?"

"Yes. Some leave as soon as their two-year stint is up. Sometimes they come back. Everyone is given a second chance. Not all get to keep it though. If you're not willing to work, study or somehow pay for all the benefits, you don't stay." The man set a plate of food down before Hawkes. "This is a good place." He walked away.

Hawkes started eating.

The dinner conversation remained as McQueen remembered, fast, pointed, argumentative, but all good-natured. Silver tended to play devil's advocate, much to Jake's frustration for he usually took that role. Peter rarely spoke, adding telling comments when he did. Patrick contributed even less, though McQueen had the feeling he listened very intently. For his own part, McQueen listened. He commented only when he thought he could make a point.

After dinner, McQueen suggested that Paul show Hawkes the recreational facilities. He approached Jake.

"I was wondering if I might get transportation to some of those runs you gave me. I want to get out and enjoy the area. Plus I want to check on Hawkes' conditioning."

Jake nodded. "Not a problem. I can take you out in the morning. Where do you want to go?"

"One of the desert runs for the morning."

Jake grinned. "And the afternoon?"

"Wooded would be nice."

"Easily done. Seven thirty all right?"

"Yes. And thank you."

"Just glad you enjoyed the scenery. I fear I must say good night though."

"Good night."

Silver stood at the large dining room window staring out into the distance. As McQueen approached, she said, "All set up?"

"For tomorrow."

"Good."

"How long before you have to leave?"

"I have an hour or so."

"Care for company?"

"Always if it's you." Silver glanced around and obviously came to a decision. "Come with me."

She led him to an area he had stayed out of before, considering it a family domain, but he gave a mental shrug. He was about to become a member of the family.

Opening a heavy wooden door, Silver motioned for him to precede her. He paused just inside, his breath taken away.

"Like it?"

"How could I not?"

McQueen took several steps into the huge library. Three stories tall and at least a hundred feet per side; he had never imagined a private library to contain so many books. On each of the three levels there was a twenty-foot wide walkway with tables and chairs to sit and read. Scattered throughout the place people searched the shelves, sat reading, or talked quietly in small groups.

"If I had known this was here before-"

"Jake would never have been able to get you fit."

"True."

"Anytime you're here, feel free to use it, same with the squad. It is actually open to everyone on the estate." Silver gave him a gentle push with her hand. "Go on. Explore. I'm going to listen to some music over there." She pointed to her right at a circle of chairs. "Headphones plug in and a palm computer lets you pick your music."

"I thought I was going to stay with you."

The hunger in his eyes brought a smile to Silver's lips. "It's all right, Ty. I know you'll be enjoying yourself. If I'm not here when you finally wander back, I'll see you at breakfast. 0700 ok?"

"Definitely." McQueen kissed Silver. "I love you."

"And I love you. Now go satisfy your curiosity."

After twenty minutes and only two books in hand, McQueen wandered back to see if Silver had left yet. She lounged, legs stretched out, eyes closed.

He touched her hand and she pushed the headphones off one ear. "Find anything you like?"

Her hand in his, McQueen sat beside Silver. "Plenty. And that's only six shelves. I could spend a lifetime in here."

"Make a list of what you find, a nice long list. You send the books back; someone here will send the next batch to you. Or rather us."

McQueen squeezed her hand. "I'd like to stay here until you leave."

"I won't throw you out. But I'm not great company right now."

"It's ok. I brought a couple of books, and they're not military history." He smiled.

Silver grinned before settling back to her music.

After thirty minutes, she removed the headphones. She coiled the cord and set the headphones on the small table before her chair. "Well, I'm off. See you in the morning."

"Take care."

"I will." Silver leaned over and kissed his cheek before rising. "Night."

"Night." McQueen watched her leave.

He read the science fiction story for another fifteen minutes before deciding to go find Hawkes. The young Iinvitro didn't know they were headed out in the morning.

Hawkes greeted the news with a groan. "Here I am on leave and I still have to work out."

"The run will do us both some good. 0730. Be out front."

"Yes, sir."

A hot bath and continuing to read the book helped McQueen relax before he settled into bed intent on finishing the story. He set the book on the night stand with a satisfied sigh an hour later. Though the story was over half a century old, the world in the book had come alive for him and the heroine had struck him as a real person, someone he wouldn't mind meeting.

A tap on the light control plunged the room into darkness. McQueen closed his eyes, hoping for a good night's sleep.

Three hours later, McQueen woke, heart pounding and ears still ringing. "Great, just great," he snarled, running a hand through his hair. "Let's wake everyone up."

A muttered curse and McQueen headed for the bathroom and a hot shower. He stopped abruptly when there came a knock on the door. "Who's at my ha- door?"

"Lt. Russell, sir."

Unlocking the door, McQueen said, "Come in."

"Thank you, sir."

"Did I wake you?"

"No, sir. Silver suggested that I check on you. She thought you might need a massage tonight." Russell closed the door behind him.

"When did you see her?"

"About ten mikes ago, sir. She was with Jake and Griffin."

"How did she seem?" McQueen did not disguise his worry.

"Fine, sir. A bit worried about you. That's why she sent me. I almost didn't knock, but then I heard you and figured you might need the massage after all."

McQueen gazed frankly at the younger invitro. "Do you have nightmares?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Only they usually aren't as bad as yours, sir. I think because I've had Finch, St. John and Silver as well as others to support me. I never had to go it alone." Russell risked touching McQueen. "Sir, let's get you some sleep. A nice hot shower to relax those shoulder and neck muscles."

With a rueful shake of his head, McQueen disappeared into the bathroom. Russell sprawled in a chair, stripped down to his shorts when McQueen left the bathroom ten minutes later.

"You know the drill, sir," Russell said quietly as he stood up.

McQueen nodded and stretched out on the bed, striving to clear his mind.

Settling across McQueen's thighs, Russell asked, "Would you mind if we joined you tomorrow on your runs? We realized that we haven't had a really good run in ages."

"Not a problem."

"Thank you, sir."

When Russell left an hour later, McQueen rolled onto his side and continued sleeping under the light blanket Russell had thoughtfully pulled over him.

The clock showed 0600 when McQueen woke, feeling well slept. A hot shower and he dressed in sweat pants and a comfortable pullover long sleeve shirt. He had no intention of getting sunburned. From the closet, McQueen took his combat boots and a wide brimmed hat.

In the dining room, McQueen found the breakfast buffet up and running. His hat marked a table by the window and he quickly loaded up a plate. The Silver doctors were eating and talking over the day's schedule. They returned his greeting as he paused on the way back to the window table.

"Still set for seven thirty, McQueen." Jake leaned back in his chair. "Though I gather there will be a few more than originally intended. Not that it's a problem. There's plenty of room in the aircar."

"Thank you. I hoped it wouldn't be an imposition."

"Not in the least. Better one trip than several. We'll meet out front."

"Yes, doctor."

Jake grinned. "Go eat. You're going to need those calories."

As McQueen sat down, he saw Wang enter, wearing long shorts and a short sleeve shirt. Wicked scars ran up the young man's legs disappearing under the shorts. More scars were visible on the muscular arms. The ever-present cane lay hooked over an arm, as Wang looked the room over.

On spotting McQueen, Wang started forward and abruptly halted. He made a gesture of 'May I join you?'

McQueen pointed to an available chair and saw Wang's face light up with a smile. He started eating.

"Sir, how should I dress for the run?" Hawkes stepped past McQueen and started to pull out a chair.

"That is Wang's seat."

"Sorry, sir." Hawkes grabbed another seat and set his full plate down. Obviously he had already come to grips with treating Wang normally.

With a mental sigh at the young man's bad manners, McQueen said, "Just because we are on leave does not mean you stop being courteous, Hawkes."

Blushing furiously, Hawkes jumped to his feet. "Sorry, sir. May I join you, sir?"

"Yes, you may. Now sit down." McQueen waited until the chastised Hawkes had obeyed. "As to dressing for the run, something like what I'm wearing would be a good idea. No weapons. We'll have radios in case of accidents. With five of us, I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Five, sir?"

"Russell, Finch, and St. John are coming as well."

"Yes, sir."

Wang limped over to the table and carefully set his plate down. "Good morning, colonel. Did you sleep well?"

"Eventually, yes."

Wang nodded as he sat down. "Hawkes was telling me some of the regular schedule. I know I'm a long way from being able to do the nightly run, but I would like to join in the gym workouts. That would be an excellent time for my PT."

"And give you incentive and support." McQueen nodded approvingly. "And when you feel like tackling the run, say so. It doesn't matter if you only make one circuit. What matters is that you're doing it, and getting stronger."

"I was hoping you'd think so too, sir." Wang grinned sheepishly. "Otherwise I was going to have to think of some way to suggest it and nothing had come to mind."

"Part of my job." McQueen motioned toward Wang's plate. "Eating well, I see. When's your PT?"

"First one is at 0900. Second one is at 1300. Jake's already given me a schedule of what I'm supposed to do every day."

"Good. Before we leave, make sure Silver and I have a copy."

"Yes, sir. And sir, it is really good to see you."

"And you, Wang. You've been missed."

"Thank you, sir." Wang started eating.

A moment later, Silver entered. McQueen thought she looked tired. She stopped beside him, a hand on his shoulder. "Just getting around to eating?"

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Enough." At McQueen's concerned look, Silver said, "I want to be finished before tomorrow afternoon. So I can get some sleep before nightfall."

"And what is tomorrow night?" McQueen asked with a sense of dread.

"The night before our wedding."

"They're not going to..."

"Of course they are. A lot of thought and work has apparently been put into it. Don't worry. There won't be any half naked women jumping out of cakes."

"Too bad," muttered Hawkes.

"Feel free to ask some of the available women around, Hawkes. I know of several who wouldn't mind a tumble with a war hero." Silver chuckled. Turning serious, she fixed her gaze on Paul. "Wang, talk to Gayle, Roger and Peter. Same with you, Hawkes, If you're even contemplating becoming Remal, you need to talk to them. Ask them any questions you have, no matter how stupid you think the question is. There is no such thing as a stupid question where this is concerned. Understand?"

Wang nodded. "Understood, colonel. Gayle's supposed to be back tonight, right?"

"Yes. She flew 'Phousse and West back East since she had a meeting in DC this morning." Silver squeezed McQueen's shoulder. "And you, my friend, would be wise to talk to them as well."

"Then I will."

"See you later." Silver headed for the door.

McQueen watched her, already missing her presence.

"Sir, if you don't mind me saying so, you have it bad," remarked Wang.

Instead of denying it, McQueen nodded.

"So I was right in thinking she was going to be important to the squad."

"Not just us. She saved the Fifth Fleet."

"I get the feeling that Hawkes didn't tell me even the half of what's been going on. I'll be interesting in the rest of the stories. Perhaps soon."

"You deserve to hear about it." McQueen ate steadily for several minutes. "You know where the library is?"

"Yes."

"We'll talk there."

"After we've talked to Gayle and the others?"

"Yes."

McQueen applied himself to his food and the other two did the same. When he finished, McQueen took his dirty dishes to the counter dividing the kitchen from the dining room. He refilled his coffee mug with real coffee and returned to his seat, sipping his coffee and looking out the window.

"Sir, is the Corps going to allow you to continue working together now that you're married?" asked Paul after he brought his own refilled mug back to the table.

"I don't see any difficulties arising. We're an effective team and splitting us up would downgrade our efficiency."

Wang grinned, "That's the colonel I know."

"It's hard to find, Paul, but the man even has a sense of humor," grinned Hawkes over the last of his coffee.

McQueen gave a mock growl. "Exposing my secrets? For that I'm not going easy on you today."

"I never expect you to."

"Good, because I'm going to run you into the ground." McQueen finished his coffee. "Coffee," he said quietly, thinking about how much he was going to miss it.

"Colonel, believe me, I've been savoring it every day." Wang studied his mug. "And the real food."

"I could get used to this, Colonel." Hawkes didn't raise his eyes from his coffee.

"I forget sometimes that you lived on the streets, Hawkes." Wang reached over and squeezed Hawkes' arm. "Well, as long as I'm alive, you'll always have a place to live and eat. I'd guess that will be the case with any of us."

"Including me, Hawkes," added McQueen.

"Thank you, both of you." Hawkes flashed a quick smile.

McQueen glanced at his timepiece. "Nearly time to go, Hawkes."

"Yes, sir. I'll go change and meet you."

Once Hawkes had left the room, Wang glanced down at his coffee before asking in a serious voice, "Sir, is it ok with you if I become a Remal? I don't want to cause any problems between you and Colonel Silver."

"It's all right, Wang. She already has Russell, Finch and St. John. Even adding you, Hawkes, and myself, she still doesn't have enough of us to keep her at one hundred percent. Sex and blood do not equal love and it's me she'll be coming back to every night."

"Not a lot of men can be that open minded, sir." Wang sipped his coffee. "But then not many could handle the thought of marrying a vampire. I'm glad you found someone, sir. I hope you have a long and happy marriage."

"Thank you, Paul. That means a lot to me."

A comfortable silence fell between them. McQueen checked the time a few minutes later. "I have to go. I'll see you at lunch."

"Yes, sir."

McQueen dropped his empty mug off and headed for the front entrance. There he found Jake lounging against the side of the aircar. A smaller vehicle than the Phantom 2200, it still could seat ten to twelve people comfortably.

The rest of the group arrived, all dressed for the run. Jake grinned, shook his head, and entered the aircar, calling out, "All aboard."

McQueen settled down in the co-pilot's seat at Jake's invitation. He wanted to gaze at the scenery. A capable flyer, Jake flew toward the Cascade mountain range and McQueen let himself relax in preparation for the challenge that lay ahead.

The terrain changed from green forest and fields to wooded foothills. A glance out Jake's window showed that snow covered Mt. Ranier down to nearly the foothills. The glacier ice at the peak did not seem as thick as McQueen remembered.

"They've been expecting it to blow every year. It's already over four hundred years overdue." Jake chuckled, shaking his head. "Like volcanoes go off on a schedule. 'Bing. Oh, that's the century mark, better blow my top.'"

McQueen shook his head. "You live in the shadow of a volcano. How do you handle it?"

"How do people living in Southern California deal with constant earthquakes? You accept the risk and live your life. I'd rather a volcano than an earthquake. Though we've had quite a few good-sized quakes over the last century. Waiting for the really big on. Expect that one will trigger the mountain." Jake gave Mt. Ranier a respectful nod. "They've got it wired and have all sorts of emergency plans in case it blows. That's assuming it gives any notice." With a shrug, Jake gestured to the forward view. "Until it goes, I'll live here. There's nowhere else in the world like the Pacific Northwest, McQueen, everything from ocean, rain forest, forest, mountains and deserts, all within a few hundred miles of country. I won't live anywhere else."

The foothills vanished to be replaced by scrub desert.

"It does seem like a good place to live."

"But you have to be prepared for lots of rain. Even with the global warming, Western Washington still gets a lot of rain." Jake glanced at McQueen. "About your run. Did you want to go over the Columbia?"

"Yes."

"Thought you might. I'll set you down fifteen miles or so on the other side of the river. You remember the place you stopped at before? Ten miles this side?"

"Yes. An old rest stop."

"That's the one. Someone will be there waiting to bring you in for lunch."

As the aircar started downward, McQueen asked, "How's Wang doing?"

"Just fine. If he keeps to a regular schedule every day, he should be one hundred percent within a year."

"He'll keep the schedule."

"If you have anything to say about it, right?" Jake said dryly, with a small smile.

McQueen chuckled. "Yes."

"He's been working hard, McQueen. I suspect he'll continue to do so."

"It'll be good to have him back, in any capacity."

"I imagine so." The aircar settled down on the ground. "Your stop, I believe."

"Thanks for the lift."

As McQueen got out, Jake handed him six wrist radios. "Play Dick Tracy, McQueen, if you run into difficulties."

"Definitely."

McQueen surveyed the surrounding landscape while Jake took off. Scrub desert as far as the eye could see. Visible to the east were some bits of green from a farmer's irrigation. South and north he saw cliffs of former lava flows carved out by massive floods during the last major ice age. The Columbia River flowed somewhere to the west.

He looked at the four young people. "Any of you been out here before?" He got back negatives. "Then listen up. Two things to keep an eye out for: rattlesnakes and holes. Checking the terrain in front of you regularly should enable you to avoid both. Avoid small shaded areas. Could be a hole. If you hear a buzzing rattling sound, freeze. Find the snake visually, fast. Then determine if you can jump away from it. If you get bit, call for help immediately after getting away from the snake."

As they all nodded, McQueen went on. "From here, we go west. The Columbia River is roughly fifteen miles from here. Everyone stops at the station on this side and waits until the rest arrive. We cross together." McQueen turned, did a quick mental calculation and pointed to west by northwest. "The bridge is that way. Go at your own pace. Go."

The four dashed off, exactly as McQueen figured they would. Shaking his head ruefully for the folly of youth, McQueen started jogging. The weather at the moment felt good, being not too warm or cool. From the previous times he had crossed the desert, he knew how to pace himself. The first water available would be at the station and he planned to get there without over exerting himself.

The air started heating up an hour later. He came across Finch, sheltering in the shade of a house-sized boulder. As he jogged past, McQueen said, "It's not a race, but a challenge to your skills. The object is to get there."

A moment later, he glanced over his shoulder and saw her following. He smiled briefly.

From the scrub brush a jackrabbit bolted. McQueen watched it zigzag away and wondered which of the three young men he'd come across first. Their egos would keep them pushing, unwilling to appear weak before the other two. If they didn't use their training and their brains to think about the surrounding countryside, they'd run themselves into exhaustion.

The heat continued to build.

McQueen jogged, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth in a steady rhythm. An hour had passed by his mental reckoning as he topped a rise and started down the other side, smiling to himself. Stretched out in the meager shade of two dead oaks lay the three young Invitroes.

Hawkes glanced up as McQueen approached. "Sir, we're thirsty."

McQueen shook his head. "There's no water until the station. If you can't make it, I'll send the car back for you." He started to move on.

Reaching the top of the next rise nearly five minutes later, McQueen saw that the four were traveling together now.

The station felt cool to McQueen as he entered nearly an hour later. He drank sparingly, did a few stretches and then drank some more. He rested, waiting for the four to arrive.

They staggered in fifteen minutes later. Eagerly they crowded around the water fountain. McQueen noted that they remembered enough not to gulp water down. Initial thirst quenched, they collapsed to the floor.

McQueen stood up, hands behind his back. He frowned at them. "I'm disappointed in you. Did you leave your brains on the Bacchus? Shall I have them shipped here? You know how to survive in the desert, so why didn't you use that training? Just because we are on Earth and on leave does not mean you forget what you are. Marines. Suppose some rogue AIs had been out there? You ran yourselves into exhaustion, doing the enemy's job for them."

The four wilted under his scornful gaze. "I'm leaving in ten mikes. If you haven't reached the LZ fifteen mikes after the aircar arrives, we'll come and pick you up." McQueen let his voice reflect the irritation the idea caused him. He walked over to the drinking fountain, took several small sips, and turned away from the four, staring out over the bridge to the other side of the river.

Hawkes ventured, "Sir, we're sorry. We didn't think. We should have thought about it more."

"Damned right you didn't think." McQueen stood straight at the window, hands clasped behind him.

Silence filled the room until McQueen returned to the water fountain and took a drink. He gave the four a cool look. "I'm leaving now."

Hawkes was the first onto his feet. "We're coming with you, sir," he said quietly.

A soft disbelieving snort was McQueen's only reply. He stepped outside and paused briefly, hearing the four crowding the water fountain. With a wry grin, McQueen started jogging toward to the stairs leading down to the footbridge. The stairs went down nearly two hundred feet.

The footbridge paralleled the ground vehicle bridge from the early 20th Century. Wide enough for ten people to walk abreast, it had been built in 2050 only a fifty feet above the raging river to the north of the previous bridge. Since freighters no longer plied their trade on the river, many of the dams had been destroyed, allowing salmon runs to flourish and the river to run far wilder than it had in a hundred years. Today, several fishermen stood on the bridge's upriver side despite the stiff breeze blowing down the river.

The sound of the four behind him disappeared in the breeze, but McQueen detected the vibration of their pounding feet through the bridge deck. He kept moving until he reached the middle of the bridge where he stopped to admire the view. Cliffs lined the river as far as he could see until the Columbia curved out of sight. Sunlight sparkled on the water and spotted several small boats further upriver. His anger and disappointment cooled at the sight.

"It's worth seeing, sir."

"Yes, it is, Hawkes."

After a moment, McQueen started jogging again, keeping to a steady pace that the four matched. The stiff breeze dropped in force as they started up the far stairs.

A sense of accomplishment filled McQueen when he reached the top without stopping or slowing. He took a deep breath and headed for the path that would ultimately lead to the rest stop. But first... Instead of continuing west, McQueen turned north along another path for over a half mile. Through the small gathering of homes and convenience stores, he led them for another mile right up a hill to a sign.

'Ginko Petrified Forest State Park,' read the sign.

"Sir, what's a ginko?"

"A tree that is virtually extinct, Russell. This is a special park. The only one of its kind in the world." McQueen kept jogging down a gravel road leading back toward the river.

"I don't see any forest or even a lot of trees."

"You won't, Finch. The trees that grew here are long dead. Their remains are in the ground."

"What's so interesting about rotting wood?"

"Nothing, Hawkes."

Huge pieces of wood lay scattered on the grass outside a stone one-story building. McQueen selected one of the largest pieces of log, six feet long and over two feet in width. Orange, green and white as well as brown, black and tan colored the log.

"This is some of that rotten wood." McQueen straddled the piece.

Cautiously, Hawkes touched the wood. "It doesn't feel like wood, especially rotting wood. It's hard, like stone."

"That's because it is stone. Fossilized wood." McQueen patted the partial log. "Over fifteen million years ago, where we're standing used to be swamp. This tree ended up buried in the mud of a lake and was buried by lava. The mud kept the wood from burning up and then minerals seeped into the wood, replacing the cells. There are pieces in the museum that have been cut and polished." McQueen swung his leg over and stood up. "We have about fifteen mikes, if you're interested."

McQueen strode over to the building. Inside he turned right and started looking in the display cases at the slices of polished stone wood. In some pieces the resulting slices had produced landscapes or almost portraits.

"Look at this," whispered Russell, gazing raptly at a lacy piece of wood. It resembled filigree far more than a piece of stone.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" McQueen smiled at the awed look in their eyes as they gazed at the fantastic shapes and colors. "The power of nature at work."

When the fifteen minutes was up, McQueen had to pull the four away from the displays. He saw that as they jogged to the rest stop area they were paying more attention to their surroundings, pointing out interesting sights.

Their ride hadn't arrived yet when they reached their goal. McQueen used the facilities and drank some water before sitting down in the shade of an oak tree. One by one, the younger Invitroes joined him at respectful distances. He saw Silver's trio exchange looks.

"Sir, are you ready for being Silver's consort?" asked Finch after a moment.

"It's a little late to back out now." McQueen raised an eyebrow. "I'm committed to the prospect now."

"We just wanted to make sure you understood what it'll be like."

"I think I am. I'll have a better idea tonight." McQueen spotted the aircar. "I'll be talking to Roger, Gayle and a few others."

"Good idea, sir." St. John stretched.

"Our ride is here." McQueen rose. "Are you coming with me this afternoon?"

"If you don't mind, sir, we would like to." Getting to her feet, Finch said, "We'll keep our wits about us this time, sir."

"Good. We'll be on more dangerous terrain."

Lunch turned out to be another buffet style meal. Having taken a nice long hot shower, McQueen sat by the window again, enjoying the view of the grass and forest. He grabbed a hamburger, a salad and a cold apple juice.

"May I join you, Ty?"

"Sure, Cassie." He saw that she had the same food. "Copying me?" he smiled.

"No. Just didn't feel like chicken, potatoes or pizza." She sat down on his right. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. A little nervous, but that's to be expected."

Cassie grinned. "I'd guess that to be natural. So what are you doing this afternoon?"

"A forest run." After eating some hamburger, McQueen asked, "How long would it take to get to the Redwood Forest from here?"

"A bit over an hour. Why?"

"I promised myself that the next time I was on Earth, I'd go see them."

Cassie chewed her lower lip. "Ty, I know a really neat spot down there. Would you like to go with me?" When he gave her a sharp look, she added, "I'm safe now. No accidents or losing control. Promise."

"When?"

"Tomorrow morning. If we leave around four, we'll have an hour to hike to the spot. It's worth it."

Her eyes fairly glowed, McQueen thought. "If your parents ok the trip, then yes."

"So where are you planning to whisk my daughter off to, Ty?"

McQueen looked up into Silver's eyes. "She wants to take me to the redwoods tomorrow."

"Are you comfortable with the idea?"

"She's confident that nothing will happen, so yes, I am."

"Then go enjoy yourselves. Try to be back before lunch, though. I'll make sure a car is available. What time, Cassie?"

"Four, Mom."

"Think you can get him there in the dark, scamp?"

"No problem, Mom, after all I got you there."

"Ah, so that's where. Ok, four it is." Silver kissed Cassie on the head. "And Ty, you'll love it."

"Now I'm really curious to see it." McQueen caught Silver's hand. "Are you eating?"

"Later. I'm too wound up right now."

"I'll see you tonight?"

"Not until after 2000."

"That's fine. I have some meetings tonight."

"How about the library?"

McQueen understood. "I just want to spend some time with you."

"And I with you." Silver squeezed his shoulder. "Later, love."

"Take care." McQueen watched Silver leave, worried about her stress levels. The tension radiated off her.

"Don't worry about Mom." Cassie reached over and gently touched McQueen's arm. "She can deal with the trials. It's the hunger that's bugging her right now. Since you're not a vampire, you don't feel the hunger she's got. That's why she's not staying around any length of time. It would be all to easy for others to start responding to her hunger as if it were their own." She shook her head. "That would lead to a vicious feedback loop. Her hunger feeds our hunger, which feeds her hunger, which feeds our hunger. It would keep spiraling until somehow the loop was broken, usually by someone getting badly hurt."

"Not a good situation." McQueen turned his attention to his hamburger.

He was eating his salad when he spotted Wang entering the room, cane over his arm.

"Jennie's going to be upset when he leaves." Cassie giggled. "She likes him."

"I think he's interested elsewhere."

"Yeah, I know. He's told her that. But that hasn't stopped her from getting interested."

"How interested?"

"Nothing physical." Cassie waved at Wang and he nodded at her. "She won't step over the line. She gets this way with some of her male patients. One day she'll find her mate. Then it'll stop."

Wang stopped by the table. "May I join you?"

"Get a plate." McQueen speared some lettuce as Wang nodded and turned toward the buffet. "What do you think of him?"

"He's nice. I know for a while there he was worried about something, but then he seemed to deal with it. It hasn't bothered him since." Cassie smiled, looking at Wang getting his food. "He runs deep, but he hides it very well so it's difficult sometimes to see."

"I'll remember that."

Wang sat down. "Did you enjoy your desert run, sir?" He had a large chicken salad.

"Yes, Paul." McQueen ate several bites of salad, enjoying the crispness of the lettuce and the taste of real blue cheese dressing. "Unfortunately, you won't have the pleasure of such runs to get you into shape."

"That's all right, sir. I'll settle for the 'Toga. I want back in the war."

"You will be."

Quiet settled over the table. McQueen rose and got another cold apple juice. As he sat back down, he asked, "Have you seen Gayle?"

"Yes." Wang nodded. "She said we could meet in a room near the library after dinner. I can take us there."

McQueen smiled at Wang, appreciating the initiative. "Good." He glanced at Cassie. "So, do you have a dress already for the ceremony?"

"Yes. While you were getting measured, I was making sure mine fit." A huge smile on her face, Cassie said, "I even look good in it. Jennie's going to help me with my hair so I'll look like a girl." She glanced down at the jeans and short sleeve shirt she was wearing. "Dad says I need to think about dressing up sometimes."

"It **_is_** something you should practice. I think you'd make a lovely girl." Wang grinned at Cassie.

"Oh, you've been watching the Court Jester again." Cassie laughed.

"I've come to really like Danny Kaye." Wang sat back. "I can't believe the movies here. I think they've got a copy of every movie ever made. There's even German, French, and a lot of others. Same with the music. I love the library and spend a lot of my free time there."

"That's something I didn't get to do," admitted McQueen. "Jake had a tight schedule to keep me on and he'd never have gotten me out of that library if I'd known about it."

"I've only been late to PT once." Wang stared out the window. "But it wasn't because of the library or movies. I was writing a letter, a letter to you, sir."

"I can guess which one."

"I had to get it done right. I lost track of time. Jake found me in my room, finishing up. He chewed me out, but let me send it before PT."

"That was good of him." McQueen leaned back in his seat, sipping his juice. "He didn't cut me much slack. I'm glad he didn't, but sometimes I was ready to kill him."

"That's his job, isn't it?" Wang shook his head. "Especially those first several days, I hated him. I didn't even have the strength of a baby and he was demanding I move. All I wanted was to lie there and take my time. He kept pushing until I finally was able to sit up on my own. That was when I realized what was going on."

"And you were proud of yourself."

"Most definitely, sir." His smile rueful, Wang said, "You never realize how much something means to you until you can't do it again. I had six long months of realizing I'd never walk again. So just getting around like this is worth the time and trouble it's taken me to get to this point. Even if I never get better."

"I understand."

"I know you do, sir." Paul sighed and started eating again.

"What are you doing after lunch, Paul?" Cassie asked, having finished her salad.

"I thought I would lounge around the pool and then take a swim. Want to join me?"

"Sure."

McQueen listened as the two talked about the Olympic sized pool, remembering his own time in the pool. He had struggled to learn how to swim all over again.

Finally, McQueen rose. "I'll see you later."

"Yes, sir."

Cassie gave him a small smile. "Be careful out there, Ty."

"I will be."


	16. Blood and Souls, Chapter Sixteen

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17

Spoilers: None

Warning: Slash, Graphic Sex.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

Blood and Souls

Chapter Sixteen

By dinner, McQueen felt a sense of accomplishment. The afternoon run had left him pleasantly tired, his body only slightly achy. Twenty laps in the Olympic sized pool followed by a hot bath and some light reading had left him quite relaxed and ready for the evening. He dressed in a nice navy blue pullover shirt and black trousers.

When Silver failed to show up at dinner, some of McQueen's good mood evaporated, but he consoled himself knowing he'd see her later.

People were getting ready to disperse after eating when Charles caught McQueen's eye. "TC, would you and the squad please wait a moment?"

McQueen nodded and settled back in his seat, picking up his coffee. Studying Charles, he didn't think it was bad news

"TC, the tailors called to say they will be here at eleven tomorrow for a fitting. All of you will need to be here."

"We'll be here." McQueen frowned as he thought of the missing squad members. "But I don't know about the three that left. I could-"

Charles smiled and raised a hand. "Not to worry. It has been taken care of. We didn't think that everyone would be staying here."

When Charles didn't elaborate, McQueen nodded, resigned to the fact the older man had his own plans. "Anything else?"

"May I speak with you in private for a moment, TC?" Charles rested his hand on the chair beside McQueen.

"We'll meet you at the library, sir." Wang gestured for Hawkes to leave.

Charles said, "Will you come to my study?"

"Yes, sir."

The study impressed McQueen, with the large oak desk, with its organized clutter, the many filled bookshelves, the books looking well worn, and the several comfortable chairs. Instead of sitting behind the desk, Charles gestured to McQueen to sit down by a window looking out on a flower garden and sat beside him.

"Son, I'm proud that you are joining our family. You have all the qualities I'd have chosen for my daughter's consort. I like you. I know that being an invitro has shaped you somewhat." He smiled sadly as McQueen stiffened. "You forget, young man, that I have memories of other lives,and I know we've met before and will do so again."

"That part still unsettles me." McQueen allowed himself to relax back into the chair.

"It does most people, including us. A lot of us refuse to delve into our memories, content to live this life without influence from previous lives. But I, in addition to being a medical doctor, am also a historian for my people. I am required to go through memories available to me." Charles sighed heavily. "I've know you, Ruth, Lysa, Griffin and many others before. The basic personality doesn't change, though it is shaped and influenced by the life they live. But the soul remains the same."

McQueen remained quiet, aware that Charles was trying to find the right words to express something to him.

"Ruth has always been a compassionate soul, often to her sorrow. Griffon stubborn and bull-headed. Lysa... Lysa is a fighter, relentless, capable of caring and giving, yet always searching for her love, and you," Charles faced McQueen squarely. "And you, the difficult one, the weed."

The older man chuckled wickedly at McQueen's hastily concealed look of distaste. "Son, that's a compliment."

"How?"

"You've always shown up in areas of adversity. As if being different from the norm was what you sought. It makes sense that you would end up an invitro in this life. At least, you weren't a Chig." Charles shook his head. "A weed is not something to be despised, son. It should be admired, even if you are rooting it out of your garden. Like the weed, you are tenacious, strong, able to survive where others die, and complex. You hide a lot beneath the surface, McQueen."

McQueen nodded tightly.

"I'm not trying to offend you, McQueen.."

"I know, sir. I've just never thought of a weed in that light before."

"Most people don't." Charles leaned back in his chair. "Part of my job as head of this clan is to help them. Overall, I think you are exceptionally well-balanced, especially given your history." He waved a placating hand at the stiffening McQueen. "Relax. Most of your life is public record. I did not pry into anything sealed nor did I ask for any of it through other channels. But I do have copies of all your medical files, up to and including last week. After all, I do have a vested interest in your well being, besides you becoming my son-in-law. I like to make sure that my work does not have problems." A smile stole over Charles' face. "Keeping tabs on your health allows me the comfort that all is well."

"That Lysa isn't worrying herself over me."

"Or you over her."

McQueen nodded. "You think I need help of some sort."

"I just want you to remember something, McQueen. You are not alone, not any more. You have a family outside the Marine Corps that will give you any help you might ever need. Hakur keep my daughter safe, but if something were to happen to her this very minute, we would still consider you a part of the family. And family is very important to us. We do not leave anyone out in the cold. There would always be a candle in the window for you."

McQueen felt tears in his eyes at the thought that these people he barely knew would be willing to take him in, no matter the circumstances. He knew without asking that Charles would stand by him against all odds. To these people, family was binding and he was now a member of the family. "I understand, sir."

"I'm glad you do, young man. Now, just because we're family doesn't mean we won't have differences of opinion. Sometimes violent ones. Fiery tempers run in this family. Don't ever let it get in the way. Lysa has her mother's temper. Most of the time, just get out of range for a while and let her cool down. You do **_not_** want to get caught in the blast, especially if it's aimed at you. I still remember the time I told Lysa she was not going into the military."

McQueen could not help the chuckle that escaped.

"Funny now. It wasn't at the time." Charles shook his head. "It was the latest in a set of arguments between us. We both lost it, but I hadn't realized how far I had pushed her on it. A flower pot sailing past my head told me. I beat an extremely hasty retreat. She trashed over twenty flower pots before her temper cooled enough that any one could get close to her. A small price to pay in the long run. Even at fourteen, Lysa knew her mind."

"She is strong willed."

"Definitely. Just like her mother. So, if you see her about to go ballistic, discretion is definitely the order of the day." Charles stroked the arm of his chair absently.

"I think I've seen her lose her temper three times. Only once would I have considered ducking for cover." McQueen remembered the look in her eyes when she realized what Griffin had done to him.

"Most of the time you have to really push Lysa before she loses her temper. She knows how dangerous it can be if she really loses it so she's learned to choke it down. She becomes extremely calm and controlled. Then she'll work it out of her system, usually in the gym. That is the mild form of her temper. The one most often seen." Charles grimaced. "I suppose you should know about the third state of her temper. I refer to it as the frozen temper. That Lysa gets from her grandmother. Ruth has never had that version. It is ten times worse. When Lysa goes cold, she's completely bypassed the hot temper. She becomes ice and will not melt until the situation has been resolved. It would be all too easy for her to kill in that state. So far she hasn't, at least Griffin says she hasn't."

McQueen heard the slight note of hopefulness in the last statement. "As far as I know, she hasn't." To himself, McQueen knew he had seen the beginnings of the frozen temper. He had seen it crystalize in her eyes when he had told her who had brutalized him on board the 'Toga. The ice had not thawed until after she had forced Danson to confess and she had coldly passed judgement on the man with her suggestion to Ross.

"I thought you should know these things."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"As a friendlier warning. I suspect you'll be getting a visit from her brothers. You are after all marrying their sister."

"She doesn't need protection, sir."

"We know that, and they know that, but that doesn't change the fact that they still look out for her." Charles shook his head ruefully. "Be that as it may, I decided to warn you. It's nothing personal on their part."

"I understand."

Charles stood up. "I've kept you long enough. You had plans for this evening. I'll let you get back to them."

Standing up, McQueen said, "I appreciate the talk, sir. I'll remember what you've said."

"Good."

Shutting the study's wooden door behind him, McQueen headed for the library, thinking over Charles' comments. He'd known Silver had a temper, but he hadn't considered the full implications. Nor had he anticipated that her brothers would feel compelled to waylay him. He almost smiled at the thought. Lysa was probably better able to take care of herself than any of them and they were still going into protective mode.

Wang and Hawkes were waiting in the hall outside the library.

"Is anything wrong, Colonel?"

"No, Hawkes. He just wanted to talk." When Hawkes gave him a disbelieving look, McQueen smiled. "Wait until you find a girl you want to marry, Hawkes. You'll understand then."

"One of those talks." Wang grinned. "Don't worry, Hawkes. It's a variant on a father-son talk. I'll explain it later."

Hawkes nodded, but McQueen could see Hawkes remembering their own talk on the Bacchus.

"Gayle said she would meet us over here." Wang started down the hall, walking slowly but steadily.

In a low voice, McQueen reassured Hawkes. "Nothing happened, Hawkes. It was just a talk."

"Yes, sir." Hawkes' voice was just as low.

Four doors down on the left, Wang knocked.

The door opened and Gayle smiled at the three men. "Come on in."

McQueen recognized two of the others in the room. Roger sat, legs stretched out before him in a comfortable padded chair. To his left on a settee sat Peter and a brunette that McQueen surmised was Cheryle, his wife.

"Sit down wherever you'd be comfortable." Grace sat on the arm of Roger's chair, stroking his hair. She noted McQueen's speculative glance. "Roger and I are friends, McQueen. Sometimes I just need the physical support of touch. It's just the way we are."

Taking the padded chair to Roger's right, McQueen nodded. He knew that for this discussion to be meaningful, he would have to overcome his own privacy barriers. An old saying came to mind, 'Damn the torpedoes. Full speed ahead.' Looking at Grace, McQueen said, "I've noticed. Lysa loves to touch me when we're in private."

"You are a very private person, McQueen. We can all see that and I know this will be difficult for you to do." Roger met McQueen's gaze. "We will try to help you through this. Ok?"

"Yes. I appreciate it."

"By the way, McQueen, Hawkes, the young lady beside Peter is Cheryle, his wife. She arrived about fifteen minutes ago."

"Hello." Cheryle gave the two men a warm smile. "I've heard a lot about you. Some of it from Paul and Cassie."

"Don't believe everything you hear." McQueen gave her a brief smile.

Roger turned to the couch where Wang and Hawkes had sat down to McQueen's right. "Now, you two. What do you know about vampires?"

"Blood and sex," said Hawkes.

Roger chuckled. "Succinct and accurate as far as it goes. Do you know any history?"

Hawkes shook his head.

"They arrived here during the time of Charlemagne," Wang said, leaning on his cane. "They scattered throughout Europe, took on human form. Blended in."

Peter nodded. "Good. Anything before that?"

"I just know that they came from space somewhere." Wang shrugged.

The door opened. McQueen turned with the others to see who entered. The breath caught in his throat at the sight of Patrick dressed in a cream colored pullover shirt and worn blue jeans. "I thought you might need the vampire perspective as well," Patrick said quietly.

"Come in, Patrick." Gayle held out her hand. "You are welcome, as always."

"Thank you." Patrick held the door open. "There are some others out here, though, who'd like to listen in."

Vansen, West and Damphousse ducked under Patrick's arm.

"Welcome. Find yourself seats." Gayle greeted the three with a warm smile as Patrick shut the door.

'Phousse went straight to where Wang sat and perched beside him on the arm of the couch. Both Vansen and West took seats on the remaining couch.

With easy grace, Patrick moved to before his brother and sat cross-legged on the floor facing McQueen, Wang, and Hawkes. "You were talking history, I believe."

"Yes. Just trying to find out how much they know." Peter leaned forward and rubbed his brother's shoulder. "Are you up to this?"

"Yes."

Hawkes leaned forward. "So, if vampires came from the stars, where did they come from? Where are their ships?"

"To answer the second question first," Patrick turned to Hawkes, "the ships are somewhere at the bottom of the Atlantic off the French coast. Ever since the technology has been developed to explore underwater, we've been looking for them. As to where we came from, well, you can travel a long ways in ten thousand years. Somewhere on the other side of the galaxy. Exactly where, we don't know anymore. See, when we reached Earth, many of our ships were damaged. People were jettisoned in life-pods that were cannibalized after landing for metals. Unfortunately, the engineers and navigators stayed with the ships, trying to land them. None of them survived. We lost all their knowledge."

"Damaged? How were the ships damaged?" asked West.

Patrick sighed. "It's a sad part of our history. But you need to know it and understand it before you commit to joining us." He closed his eyes, took several deep breaths before opening his eyes again. A stillness settled over his features. When he spoke, his voice held a deeper timbre.

"In the beginning, there was a planet on the far side of the galaxy. Life developed and slithering through that life there was a parasite that lived by feeding on the life-force of the various creatures. At some point, it latched onto a roaming, four-footed predator. The relationship between the parasite and predator changed over time, becoming a symbiotic relationship. At this point, the first steps toward intelligence were taken by the altering of the genetic instructions of some of the predators. They changed further, becoming reliant on the first type of predator for survival. In exchange, the weakened type bore mixed young, mostly of the weaker variety, but enough of the stronger to enable the continuity of the species. The influence of the symbiote was still needed by the second type of predator but not to the degree that the first needed it. Both continued to evolve toward intelligence and bipedalism. The first predator became known as the Vrylosian, the second the Remal."

With a sigh, Patrick continued. "In time, they built a civilization. Through trial and error, they climbed and fell and climbed again. There were periods of war and slavery. Eventually, a Vrylosian and a Remal stood before the masses and spoke of a way to live in peace. It took years for the Way to be fully accepted, but it did. For twenty-five thousand years, the Way, the Covenant, has been life."

"What is this Covenant?" asked McQueen, remembering Jean talking about it.

"A Vrylosian and a Remal govern the Family. The Vrylosian is the Dalian, or ruler, and the Remal is the Hnom or High Priest. Together they rule the Family. The Remal and Vrylosian are intertwined beyond any real chance of separating.

"The Remal are not lesser creatures than ourselves. How can they be? They are our brothers," Patrick reached back to touch Peter's knee, "sisters, mothers, fathers, lovers, and friends. These cannot be lesser than ourselves. We love the Remal and they love us. We are a part of each other, two halves of the same creature. But the Vrylosian are driven by the symbiote whereas the Remal are not, at least not in the same way. A Remal who has never tasted the Blood, never lain with a Vrylosian, continues to live."

"What happened next?" Wang sat, his eyes glued on Patrick.

"We eventually made it to the stars and other systems. Only two systems nearby had life as advanced as ourselves. We made contact and brought them into our Family. We took the people who were not wanted by their races, the orphans and the outcasts, they were the ones we brought home and incorporated into the Family. They were loved and given affection which they didn't get from their own race. With us, they were given worth and value. For each race, a certain number of Vrylosian and Remal changed to match the race, to be able to truly incorporate them into the Family. One race, the Rreimmu, had also evolved from a four-footed beast, but they were descended from a herbivore turned omnivore. The other, the Lyumo, came from a scavenger and omivore bipedal creature. It was the Lyumo who turned against us."

A pained sigh and Patrick resumed speaking. "The Lyumo had help in turning against us. The Dalian and the Shendalia, the heir, were in a space accident, which could never be proven to have been arranged. The Dalian died and the Shendalia, named Jartal, was badly injured and unable to feed in order to heal. The five surviving Remal had also been injured. The brother of the Dalian, Kilke, took power while the spacecraft was missing. When Jartal was finally found, the injuries had crippled him. He could not rule and his heir was too young to take his place. So Kilke stayed in power, supposedly as regent. The High Priest had to accept him, there was no one else."

Patrick closed his eyes for a brief moment. Sorrow tinged his voice as he continued. "If only there had been someone else to rule. At first, Kilke did everything right. He lulled the populace into accepting him. Even before they had, Kilke was already spiraling down the path of Darkness. His Remal sickened and died, hidden away. Many of the replacement Remal were never seen again, there was always a plausible story. Jartal's son died during a hunting trip, under odd circumstances. After nearly fifty years, the High Priest had proof of the evil of Kilke. Kilke had ceased to age. The so-called Regent had become a Dark One. Together Jartal and the High Priest, Tornin, worked to bring down Kilke, but they hadn't expected the reaction of the Lyumo to the outrages Kilke had wrought on their people. In fifty years, Kilke managed to destroy the little trust the Lyumo had in us. The Lyumo laid their plans carefully and spread throughout the three systems. Then on the appointed night, they rose and massacred billions. Some of the Lyumo who felt they had been well treated warned their Vrylosians. One such came to the home of Jartal and Tornin where they were making plans to expose Kilke. He told them to flee. Jartal couldn't. His duty lay in protecting the Vrylosians and Remal. Jartal roused the rest of his family. His mate stood beside him and he impressed into her unwilling mind the order to flee."

Fierce resolve filled Patrick's face and McQueen had the feeling that the echo of Jartal looked out of the green eyes. Patrick's voice deepened. "Go, beloved. Flee. Take all our people you can find. We have been betrayed by Kilke the Dark and the Lyumo. Flee to the shipyards and take all of the Children that you can find. Into the darkest night you must go. Somewhere in the depths of space may our people once again live in peace."

Patrick sobbed once softly before continuing in a voice that held unshed tears. "His mate cried, 'I cannot go!' Jartal kissed her passionately before shoving her toward his most trusted Remal. 'Go, beloved. You are named for the Mother and you must be the hope of our people.' Beside him, Tornin had summoned his only family. About his eldest daughter's neck Tornin placed the symbol of the High Priest. Then he took from the cellar where it had been placed to keep it out of Kilke's hands the satchel containing the artifacts of the Dalian. They were placed into his daughter's care and she was bid to go with the Dalian's family. As Jalke finally fled, she remained linked with her love. Under the guidance of the Remal, she was taken to safety, but what she saw through Jartal's eyes became a part of every Vrylosian and Remal later when she shared it. It resides in the racial memory, so strong is it.

"Jartal, with the aid of Tornin, had many close calls as they struggled to reach Kilke before the Lyumo. During their struggle, seventy spaceships fled the planet. Fifteen more came from the Rreimmu system where the Family had been warned in time by loyal Lyumo. Four left the home world of the Lyumo. One was destroyed minutes later as it diverted a Lyumo destroyer." Pride and sorrow warred in Patrick's voice.

"Jartal and Tornin reached the Citadel. Fighting raged about it for the Guard whose duty it was to protect the Dalian had been alerted and they fought the Lyumo troops. The dead and dying filled the inner ways as Jartal and Tornin used secret means to enter the Citadel. These passages they sealed behind them. They found Kilke in his chambers, having drained the life of four Remal. Kilke was strong, full of life-force and ready to kill. Despite his crippled body, Jartal was determined to destroy Kilke. The fight that followed was bloody and vicious. Tornin was forced to wait until Jartal had inflicted enough injuries on Kilke before he could call upon Hakur and drew strength from the Heart. Kilke was knocked unconscious. Tornin drew more energy from the Heart and channeled it into Jartal's dying body and gave up a goodly portion of his own life-force. When Jartal could at last rise to lean against the High Priest, they made their way to the uppermost pinnacle of the Citadel, a thousand feet up."

His gaze trapped in a distance past, Patrick stared past McQueen, seeing the destruction of his race's home world. "At their feet, the city lay in flames. They could see the fighting still going on and knew all three worlds were engulfed in flame and hatred. Sorrowing, they raised their arms to the sky and called upon Hakur and Jalke. Strengthened, they summoned the Heart of the Home. The full powers of the Shandalia and some of the Dalian resided in Jartal. Kilke had never been fully initiated into either role. He had taken the name but could not take the power. Then they reached out to the Hearts of the other two Homes. Three solar systems were to become engulfed in fire and cease to be."

"Are you saying they caused the suns to go nova?" Wang stared fascinated.

"Yes." Tears started down Patrick's cheeks.

"But why?"

"To contain the hatred and death. The only trace of the three civilizations would be the few survivors that fled."

"That's genocide!" Hawkes burst out.

Patrick's tear streaked face turned to Hawkes. "In response to the genocide being perpetrated on their own race. I do not deny the charge. The Rreimmu were ever a peaceful race. Doing violence to another sentient was a concept they had never developed. They had embraced the Family without reservation. When Jartal reached out to the Heart of the Rreimmu Home, he felt few Rreimmu lives to answer his call. Those few that still lived passed on the horror of their world being bombarded from space. Their world was dying. It pained Jartel to cause the death of even one life, or even the deaths of those who had never accepted the Family. But Jartal welcomed Hakur, bidding him to take the lives of the three systems. Jartal's wife knew no more of him from that point on. On the ships' view screens, the Family watched as the three suns went nova."

"You don't make suns go nova merely by willing it!" 'Phousse said in disbelief.

"The knowledge of how he did it is lost to us. All we have left is the Ballad of Leave Taking and it says that Jartal ordered the Heart of the Home to explode."

Peter leaned forward, catching Patrick as he slumped backwards, eyes closed, breathing hard. "Easy, Pat. Come on back. Leave it behind. Come back to us here."

Breathing steadied, Patrick reached up and patted his brother's supporting arm. "My thanks, brother. Despite the fact that it is ten thousand years in the past, Jartal and Jalke's emotions are so very strong." Pain remained in Patrick's voice and he started to shiver.

Cheryle slipped down onto the floor and wrapped her arms around Patrick. "Sh. It's all right. Just relax."

Stroking his brother's hair, Peter looked over at Wang and Hawkes. "That's our history in a nut shell. We traveled the galaxy, sometimes stopping at planets. There's life out there, lots of it. Problem is the Lyumo are determined to wipe us out. The closest analogy on Earth is the way the Jews were treated throughout the Middle Ages. Every time we found a place to stay for a while, to try and find a home, the Lyumo found us and turned the world against us. Only those who had already joined us, didn't turn. Though there are cases where parts of the Family sacrificed themselves by forcing the Remal to turn in the Vrylosian while the majority escaped again."

"They found you every time?"

Peter nodded at Vansen. "How we don't know. But find us they did, determined to exterminate us. We fled before the Lyumo."

"Why didn't you fight them? Destroy them?" demanded Hawkes.

"Could you destroy your child?" Peter waited until Hawkes shook his head. "See in a way, they are our children. We made them. We can't bring ourselves to destroy them. They may yet return to reason. So we run rather than harm them en masse. Oh, we fight them, but we've never tried to destroy them wholesale."

"But they haven't found you this time." Vansen spoke quietly.

"It's only a matter of time."

"Why aren't you building weapons to fight them?" West asked.

"We don't know how to build the weapons, the defenses, the ships that our people once had. The knowledge is lost. We have some idea of some of the underlying concepts. But it's only been in the last hundred years that technology has started along the right paths. We've tried to steer some of the research into the paths we need, but it takes a lot of money or influence to make it work world wide. We are still a small percentage of the population with a proportionate amount of influence. We know and understand the dangers, Hawkes, and we are doing what we can to lessen it. Humanity is our responsibility too. We have no where else to run. If the Lyumo find us, they will destroy humanity in the blind effort to destroy us."

"Like the AIs."

"Yes, West."

Hawkes turned his head, biting his lower lip. Chin still resting on his cane, Wang stared thoughtfully at Patrick and Peter. Wang took 'Phousse's hand in his before finally asking, "What about the undead part of the vampire legend? How much of that is true?"

"Those who tread the Dark Path can return from seeming death. That is where the bad vampire reputation stems from. The Dark Ones care not for ethics, morality, or rightness. They seek only their own pleasure. We abhor the vampire image even more than you do. It is the essence of the most evil of our kind, like Hitler is of humanity. We fight to destroy them. We cannot allow them to survive." Distaste colored Roger's voice.

"And Kilkie had walked that path?" McQueen asked.

"Regrettably, yes. The Dark Ones have fortunately been few and far between. On Earth, there have only been a handful. One surfaced late in the 20th century." Patrick finally stopped shivering and leaned against his brother's legs still in Cheryle's arms.

McQueen sighed softly. "I understand why we needed the history. It explains some of the secretiveness. But I think we need to get back on track. I've consented to being a vampire's consort and these two are thinking about becoming her Remal. We need more information about the actual relationship."

"Yes." Wang sat up straight. "Just what do the Remal get out of the relationship?"

"Let's see who should answer that?" Peter glanced to his right, at McQueen and then at his wife. "Cheryle?"

"Oh, right, give me the hard ones." She laughed and swatted Peter on the knee. "Rat."

"You're the only Remal who isn't born of the Family."

"Fine. I'll answer it, though I think McQueen could do it as well." She kissed Patrick's shoulder before answering. "The essence of the relationship between Remal and Vrylosian is that we share the Blood. There is much more to it than that. When we drink the Blood regularly from a Vrylosian, we gain strength and faster healing. When the Vrylosian drinks from you, it's beyond description. Take the most exquisite sexual encounter you've ever had and multiply it a thousand fold and you begin to realize the experience. It's not something you can explain easily. It's best experienced."

"Best experienced, eh?" Wang glanced at McQueen. "I take it, colonel, that you have experienced this?"

Reluctant to admit it even now, McQueen's answer ended up clipped. "Yes."

"Does it ruin you for regular sex?" Wang looked at the various Remal who all shook their heads, tightening his grip on 'Phousse's hand.

"No," said Gayle. "Both my husband and I were Remal. We thoroughly enjoyed sex with each other."

"Having sex with a vampire enhances your life, but does not diminish other relationships, if they are open-minded enough to share." Cheryle smiled, massaging Patrick's shoulders. "I started out as one of Patrick's Remal. Then I met Peter and fell in love. I care for Patrick. He is my brother-in-law and the center of my circle, but I go home to Peter, not Patrick. Where I enjoy a very satisfying sex life." Her love for Peter shone from her eyes. "Better, Patrick?"

"Yes. Thank you, Cheryle. Reliving the memories leaves my body tight as a drum. So much emotion." Patrick sighed gratefully as Cheryle shifted her hands to his neck. "A side effect of regular sharing of the Blood is an increased sex drive. Fortunately, your stamina increases as well."

"What else do the Remal gain in exchange for their life-force?" asked Wang.

"Better health. Once I started with Lysa, I never got sick." Gayle rubbed her arms. "No more colds or flus. Faster reflexes. Excellent for a pilot. Or a soldier. In addition, you gain more strength. After all, a vampire is strong."

McQueen nodded, remembering Lysa on the transport and the time she had picked him up in the briefing room. "Easily twice, maybe even three times as strong as an Invitro." He saw the incredulous look Hawkes gave him. "I'm not exaggerating, Hawkes. I know what Lysa was like when she wasn't feeding regularly. I can only imagine what she would be like at full strength. And don't forget, she pried open the pressure doors on the bridge."

"Yeah," breathed Hawkes. "I couldn't have done that."

"Definitely need you to tell me what's been going on." Wang punched Hawkes' arm. "You didn't tell me about this."

"Later, Paul." McQueen sat straight. "Let's finish this before getting started on that."

"Ok." Wang looked at Patrick. "Is there a way to experience this without sex?" From the expression on his face, he clearly didn't expect there to be.

Patrick lifted Cheryle's hands from his neck and turned to face Wang. "Yes."

"Oh." After a second, Wang asked, "How?"

"I merely drink from you. It won't be as strong as if we made love, but you'd get the idea." Patrick's eyes didn't stray from Wang's.

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Wang nodded. "Do it, please. I have to know before I decide."

Smoothly, Patrick rose to his feet. "Come here."

Wang rose, looking at 'Phousse who nodded once.

"Paul, what are you doing?" Hawkes grabbed Wang's arm.

"Learning, Hawkes. Hold this." Wang handed the cane to Hawkes who took it reflexively, releasing Wang. "I need information to make an informed decision." Paul walked forward, only letting go of 'Phousse's hand when he had to.

Patrick gently stroked Paul's cheek. "Try to relax. I won't let you fall. Trust me." He placed a gentle kiss on the dry lips. From there, Patrick slid his hands down the firm body and back up, cradling Paul's head in one hand and holding Paul against him with the other hand.

A soft sigh escaped Paul as Patrick kissed and nibbled from Paul's lips and jaw to his throat. More kisses were administered down to the base of Paul's throat, before Patrick reversed course back to his lips, no longer dry but wet and parted. A kiss, then Patrick repeated his actions on the other side. Back at Paul's mouth, Patrick kissed the young man again.

Paul's hands hesitantly reached around Patrick to stroke the broad shoulders. He moaned softly as Patrick returned to his throat, head thrown back giving better access to the vampire. His hands clenched in the shirt fabric as Patrick nipped lightly at his throat.

Angling his head more to the side and pulling Paul into position, Patrick allowed his needle-like fangs to pierce Paul's skin and sink down into the pounding, pulsing artery.

"Uhn..." Paul's back arched, but his body was held firmly in place by Patrick. Eyes closed, his hands clenched, fingers digging into Patrick's flesh. "Oh, God..."

Patrick withdrew after only ten seconds, but continued holding Paul securely. As Paul's knees refused to hold him up, Patrick picked Paul up and carried him over to his seat by Hawkes. Gently, Patrick set Paul down, smiling as Paul opened his eyes. "How was that?"

"Oh, God..." Paul trembled as he reached up to caress Patrick's jaw. "That... that is what they get? Only stronger?"

"Yes." Patrick crouched before Paul. "It is much stronger when sex is involved."

"Paul?" 'Phousse's voice shook slightly as she looked down at Paul.

Paul gazed up at Vanessa. "It's absolutely fantastic, Vanessa. I want to find out if there is really something between us first, but I also think I will eventually have to do this. Silver is going to need all the help she can get."

For a long moment, 'Phousse stared down at Wang. She swallowed several times and turned to face Patrick. "Show me now."

"Vanessa?" Paul placed his hand on her arm.

"I need to know what I'm competing with."

Gently, Patrick said, "Don't think of it as competing. If you both were Remal, then Lysa would make love to you both at the same time. And your private time together would be stronger and more satisfying."

"Why both of us at the same time?" asked 'Phousse.

"She would only want the seed of her consort, so someone should be paying attention to Paul's needs."

"Oh." After a second, 'Phousse said, "I still want to try it."

Nodding, Patrick rose, his hand extended to her.

She took it and stood up.

"Will you trust me?"

"Yes."

Patrick's pleased smile brightened the room. He tilted her head up with one hand and, as he kissed her, slid the other hand down her side to wrap around her lower back. As her hands crept up around his shoulders, he cradled her head in a hand while he kissed and nibbled her throat like he had Paul's. Once he was satisfied with Vanessa's responses, Patrick drank from her. He withdrew after ten seconds, still holding her stiffened body in his arms. Placing her in Paul's lap, Patrick caressed her cheek then Paul's as Paul wrapped an arm around Vanessa.

A soft sigh escaped 'Phousse as she opened eyes she had not been aware she had closed. "I've never felt anything like it before." She cuddled against Wang.

"It lasts longer if you share Blood regularly with a vampire." Patrick stood up and stretched, making McQueen aware of the finely sculpted body.

Hawkes rose slowly. "My turn." He set Wang's cane to the side.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

It took Patrick longer to get Hawkes to relax, but Hawkes' reaction was even more intense than the other two once Patrick drank.

"Oh, man, oh, man," muttered Hawkes as he sagged in Patrick's arms. "It's better than any drug, even Green Meanies."

With a chuckle, Patrick eased Hawkes back down on the couch.

Hawkes sprawled, eyes still closed. When Patrick stroked his cheek, he grabbed his hand and brought it up for a kiss on the palm. "Any time."

"Glad you enjoyed it."

"So, how many Remal are necessary to keep a vampire at full health?" West asked, his eyes riveted on Hawkes.

"Ideally, ten. That allows everyone to recover fully before being drunk from again."

McQueen saw West counting. He already knew the numbers. The trio, himself, and Hawkes would be only half the required amount. To his surprise, West looked at him.

"Sir, how are we going to work this out? Sexual fraternization within the squad..." West shook his head. "They'll drum us all out."

"We'll figure it out. Silver managed fifteen on the Ticonderoga without being discovered."

West nodded once, looked over at Hawkes, 'Phousse and Wang. Taking a deep breath, he stood up. "I'd like to see what this is like."

West stared at Patrick afterward. "Oh, god... count me in."

"You should probably think on it a bit more, hm?" Patrick put West back on the couch, smiling at the young man's reaction.

"Think about it, hell. If I do, I'll chicken out."

"Well, you might as well think it over and talk about it among yourselves. Lysa won't be able to even consider the lot of you until after she and TC return." Patrick shook his head slightly. "He is her priority right now."

"I can see that." West rubbed his throat reflexively. "I didn't even feel you."

"Under the right circumstances, you wouldn't."

West turned to Vansen. "You should at least try it once, Shane."

"I can't deny that vampires exist, but I'm not ready to bare my throat to one." Vansen stared defiantly at Patrick.

"Fine by me." Patrick shrugged. "We don't force anyone. Not even those born as Remal."

"I find that hard to believe." Vansen's voice was hard.

"You don't get it, do you? Look, Peter is my brother. Now if some other vampire forces him to submit, how do you think Jake, Lysa, and myself will react?"

"Angrily."

"Damn right. The same will happen if I were to force Gayle. Her father and sister are vampires. We are family. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, there is no rhyme or reason to who is what. So we _don't_ force anyone under normal circumstances."

"What about what happened between Silver and the colonel? When we brought her back from that mission?"

Patrick shook his head. "That was not a normal circumstance. A vampire so close to death is allowed certain latitudes. The closer to death a vampire is the harder it is to control the hunger."

"Shane." McQueen waited until he had her attention. "The only time on the transport Silver didn't give me blood back was the first time she drank from me. True, she hurt me, but remember how I looked when I walked off that transport. I was in better shape than when she first drank from me."

"But sir-"

"No, Shane. I went into the situation with my eyes open. I knew she could have killed me if she lost control. She nearly did twice, but I'm alive, here and now. And Shane, she was willing to stay behind rather than risk killing me. I told her I wasn't leaving without her."

Vansen bowed her head over clasped hands.

"Are there any more questions?" asked Gayle.

"What happens to Remal who never join with a vampire?" 'Phousse gazed at Gayle.

"They never reach their full potential. I've talked to several. They all say that there is a feeling of not being complete." Gayle shrugged. "For those like yourself, if you join as Remal, you will gain. And if you stop after a time, you merely lose those benefits, returning to being merely human again. For us, if we stop after starting to share the Blood, it is like a drug withdrawal. We need the Blood to be complete. That is part of the price we pay." She looked at the squad members. "Any other questions?"

"If we become Remal, are we fair game for any vampire?"

"No." Patrick smiled at Wang. "Any vampire must ask permission once you've chosen a vampire to be Remal with."

"Whose permission?"

"Under normal circumstances, both yours and your vampire's. In some cases, just yours." Patrick's eyes met McQueen's briefly as he turned to walk back over to Peter and Cheryle. "After all, since Peter and Cheryle are married, it would be bad manners of me to just ask Cheryle, now wouldn't it?"

"Yes," agreed Wang.

When Patrick looked at him again for just a second, McQueen felt his breath catch. Was Patrick letting him know he was interested? And if he was, just what did he do about it? Did he want another vampire coveting him? But he couldn't deny the attraction he felt for Patrick.

"Does anyone else have a question?" Roger leaned forward.

Heads were shaken.

"Then why don't you think over what you've learned tonight. If you need to ask a question later, feel free to ask any of us. We will take the time to talk to you." Roger rose and held out his hand to Gayle.

McQueen watched as Patrick gave both his brother and Cheryle a hand up. As he left, Patrick met McQueen's questioning eyes and smiled.

No, no, no, he did _not_ need any more complications. McQueen turned his gaze to his kids. Whispering quietly together were 'Phousse and Wang. He could guess what about. Hawkes had reached out to West who took the hand and smiled.

"I think you need to talk this over and you need to fill Paul in on what he's missed since he came to Earth." McQueen got to his feet, glancing at his timepiece. He had plenty of time to get a couple of scotches before his meeting with Silver.

"Sir, where are you going?" asked Vansen.

"I have someone to meet in a little while."

"Silver?"

"Yes." McQueen tried not to think about Patrick.

"See you in the morning, sir."

"I won't be here until later. Cassie and I are going out early."

'Phousse raised an eyebrow. "Sir?"

"She has someplace she wants to show me."

'Phousse grinned. "And it makes a great time to bond with her."

"I will not dignify that with an answer." McQueen smiled back at 'Phousse. "Good night."

"Good night, sir."

A couple of scotches under his belt, McQueen went to the library. He took a seat in the area where Silver had listened to music. Succumbing to the urge to relax, he stretched his feet out before him and closed his eyes, hands folded on his lap, settling into the padded chair..

The library door opened and closed several times before he knew Silver had entered. He opened his eyes and started to rise.

"Don't get up. You look far too comfortable to be moving."

As she approached, he saw the tiredness in her eyes. "How many to go?"

"One. I've barreled through them as fast as I can. I'll sleep for several hours tomorrow afternoon." She took the chair to his left and reached out.

Entwining his fingers in hers, he sighed, enjoying the touch. He drank in the sight of her, not missing the way her shoulders slumped slightly, or the tension running through her body. "When will you feed the hunger?"

"After the trial is over." She squeezed his hand. "Don't worry about me, love. I will survive."

"I can't help but worry."

"Just remember that I love you."

"And I you." After several minutes of just watching her, he asked, "Lysa, I think someone is interested in me."

"Oh, who?"

"Patrick." He didn't expect the chuckle she gave. "What?"

"Doesn't surprise me. Patrick has excellent taste. You two are very alike. He's always been drawn to those like himself."

"Do you mind?"

She shook her head. She rose and moved over to his chair. With a grin, Silver sat on his lap facing him, her knees on either side of his hips. Kissing him, she let him feel her love and desire, hands roaming his body. "No, I don't mind. Like I've said before, I don't expect you to be monogamous. Just let me know who, hm?"

"Would he drink from me?" He stroked her throat with a thumb.

"No."

"Good. You're the only one I want doing that."

She kissed him again. "Hakur, grant me strength," she breathed a moment later, resting her head on his shoulder. "I want you so much and I can't have you."

"How long can you stay?" He held her tight.

"An hour."

"Do we risk somewhere more private?" He ran his fingers up into her hair and breathed in the strawberry scent of her shampoo.

"No. If I slip now with you, I'll have to start all over again."

"Cruel." A sigh and he said, "All right. We stay here."

A most satisfying hour went by. They didn't talk much, but McQueen enjoyed the cuddling and allowed himself to revel in the fact that the woman in his arms was his. Reluctantly, he let her pull away.

"I have to go." sSe kissed him again. In his ear, she whispered, "And if Patrick is indeed interested, be gentle. You'll understand."

He cupped her face. "How long will it take us to get to the cabin?"

"An hour."

"An hour too long."

She laughed. "Soon, love, soon."

As she stood up, he joined her. He pulled her close and, not caring who saw, kissed her passionately, feeling her respond.

"I have to go, Ty." She sighed and took a step away from him.

"I'll walk you to the door."

"No further."

He nodded. He opened the door for her and watched her walk down the hall. After several minutes, he made his way to his quarters, thinking he better take a cold shower if he wanted any sleep.

McQueen was about to open his rooms' door when Patrick's velvet voice reached him.

"TC."

How could someone fit so much desire and fear into only two letters? He turned his head and saw Patrick approaching. He swallowed hard, his eyes drawn to the long fingers of the hand held out to him. It took him a few seconds to say, "Do you want to come in and talk?"

"Yes."

Inside, McQueen gestured to the chair as he sat down on the bed. "What's on your mind?"

"You." Patrick sat hunched forward, obviously apprehensive.

"I thought so."

"Look, I'm not usually like this. But I've been drawn to you since you walked off the car."

"And I to you."

"So, do we do something about it?" Patrick met McQueen's eyes.

"I haven't decided."

"Fair enough." Patrick forced himself to sit back. "What will help you decide?"

"A kiss."

Patrick raised an eyebrow, but got to his feet and held out his hand. "I'm willing."

McQueen took the hand and stood face to face with Patrick. He saw the uncertainty in Patrick's eyes and decided to take the initiative. Even as Patrick had with Wang and the others, McQueen gently kissed him. He felt a hand slide down his back and the other cup the back of his head. His own hands McQueen let slide up Patrick's back.

When Patrick started kissing him harder, McQueen broke the kiss off. "Just a second, Patrick. I want to make one thing clear."

"Yes?" Patrick's voice was husky as he nibbled on McQueen's throat, slipping off his shoes.

"No drinking."

"Absolutely." Patrick lifted his head to look into McQueen's eyes. "I just want a lover tonight. Is that ok?"

"Yes." How could he deny such needy emerald eyes? "I have to get up at 0330."

"Ok." Patrick grinned before ducking his head back down to nuzzle behind McQueen's ear. His hands pulled McQueen's shirt up and slid underneath.

As Patrick teased his nipples and continued under his ear, McQueen freed up the cream colored shirt and ran his fingers over the hard abdomen, enjoying the feel of the quivers that it caused. He moaned as Patrick retaliated by nipping lightly down his throat. Moving his hands upward, McQueen felt roughness under his fingers and frowned as he pulled the shirt up.

Anger surged through him at the sight of the many scars. "Who the hell did that to you?" He couldn't believe Charles or any of the others had done it.

Patrick sighed, burying his head in McQueen's neck. "AIs. I was eight. They took over my school." He wrapped his arms around McQueen with a quiet sob. "Out of twenty in my class, only three of us survived. I watched them get tortured and killed."

"And they tortured you." McQueen felt Patrick's nod. Now he knew what Silver had meant about being gentle. "It's all right, Patrick. I'm not going to turn you away. I have my own scars." He lifted Patrick's head and kissed him.

"The last Angry Angel. I know." Patrick returned the kiss.

The desperation in Patrick's kiss reached him. He held Patrick. "I'm not going anywhere for a while, Patrick. We have time."

McQueen let the shirt fall back down, but he left his hands on Patrick's skin, dragging his nails lightly and seeking to renew the passion. He moved his mouth down to behind an ear and nibbled, pleased when Patrick moaned and started pressing against him. Against his thigh, McQueen could feel Patrick responding as he wanted. Then slowly McQueen lifted the shirt and took a partial step back. "Off with this."

He tossed the shirt toward the chair and bent his head to kiss the scars covering the upper chest before him. With infinite patience, McQueen kissed each puckered scar and rubbed his thumbs over the raised nipples. Even as Patrick reciprocated in kind, McQueen dropped his hands to the jeans fastenings. He unsnapped and pulled the zipper down, letting the fabric sink to the floor. As Patrick stepped out of the jeans, McQueen ran his fingers under the band of the briefs and started to ease them downward.

A moan escaped Patrick when McQueen's fingers brushed against his cock. "Oh, yes." He pulled McQueen's shirt up and bent his head to suck on a nipple.

Fire danced along McQueen's nerves, but he continued with his task. The briefs slid down the long, hard thighs on their own and were kicked aside. Cupping the firm buttocks, McQueen moaned himself as Patrick returned to his throat and started nibbling. McQueen grabbed Patrick's hands to keep them from undressing him. Turning them both around, McQueen backed Patrick up until the other bumped up against the bed.

Pushing him down, McQueen said, "Just sit there."

In a single motion, McQueen stripped off his shirt and threw it behind him. Undoing his belt allowed him the chance to study Patrick. A perfect cock rose from the dark pubic hair above the muscled thighs. Well defined pectorals and an almost washboard abdomen finished the scarred body. A wide variety of scars ranged from ankles to collarbones and McQueen cursed the AIs that had done it. Just seeing the puckered scars scattered throughout the thin and thick roped scars and the skin grafts as large as his palm told him why Charles was so driven to discover human regeneration. Years of pain could have been avoided.

"Poor Patrick," breathed McQueen. "To have suffered so." To prevent him from reacting to his words, McQueen dropped to his knees and sucked the head of Patrick's shaft into his mouth. A hand ran through his hair as Patrick moaned.

"Ah, yes..." Patrick sank backwards until he lay stretched across the bed, his hands continuing to run through McQueen's hair.

McQueen used his tongue to good effect. After first dipping it in and out of the slit on the top, he lapped down the length to the base, up one side and down the other. Licking the hard shaft like an ice cream cone caused Patrick to buck. He swirled his tongue around the head before taking over half the length in his mouth and watched as Patrick shuddered. Several long slow pulls left Patrick tossing his head and clenching his fists in the covers.

Lifting his head, McQueen asked, "Like that?"

"God, yes!" Before McQueen could continue working on him, Patrick managed, "It's not fair. I want to see all of you."

"Fair's fair."

McQueen stood up and finished undoing his pants. He let them fall to the floor, kicking them away as he started to slide his hands under his boxer briefs. Patrick raised himself onto his elbows to watch as McQueen turned to the side and slid the boxers down to his knees before letting them drop. Standing straight, McQueen let Patrick run his eyes over him.

"Now, move to the head of the bed," McQueen commanded quietly. He nodded approvingly as Patrick shifted so that he lay the length of the bed, head on the pillow. "Very good."

Straddling thighs, McQueen took hold of his wrists and raised them up to the brass rail headboard. "Don't let go." The slight look of apprehension in the emerald eyes made him say, "I'm going to make love to you. That's all. If it really gets to be too much, let go. But I'd like you to try. Ok?"

Patrick nodded, a slight frown marring his forehead.

Determined to wipe the apprehension away, McQueen kissed him before starting to explore the magnificent body beneath him. Licking, kissing and nibbling, McQueen traveled from mouth to ear, to collarbone, up to an elbow and back again to repeat on the other side. No longer apprehensive, Patrick twisted and moaned, retaliating by kissing any available part of. Another leisurely kiss and McQueen moved downward.

Each nipple received his attention until they were hard and erect, so sensitive that Patrick shuddered whenever he breathed on them. Nipping his way along the fine line of black hair, McQueen reached the quivering belly. Exploring the belly button with his tongue caused Patrick to buck and writhe. For several minutes, he played with the indentation, enjoying the way Patrick thrashed and groaned. He parted the wildly flexing thighs, kneeling between them as he turned his attention to them using his mouth and hands to sooth and lower Patrick's level of arousal.

"Are you all right?" McQueen asked, hovering over the slightly parted lips.

"Very all right," panted Patrick. "Don't stop."

"Ok."

A deep kiss and McQueen proceeded to kiss his way back to a hip and thigh junction. He caressed the taut thigh, brushing his fingers higher and higher until just touching the heavy sacs. Then he followed the same trail with his mouth, lipping the firm flesh, breathing in the musky scent of Patrick. His fingers rolled the sacs before easing downward, exploring. Feeling the scars brought tears to McQueen's eyes as he realized the true depths of hell an eight-year-old child had been subjected to. Even as Patrick tensed under his touch, McQueen diverted Patrick's attention by once more paying attention to the hard erect cock with his mouth.

The fear-based tension flowed into sexual tension and McQueen employed his mouth skillfully, wondering where he could find something for lube. The memory of a white tube and some packets came to mind. A last hard suck and McQueen let the hard cock drop to the firm belly while he reached over to the night stand. There it was.

"TC?"

McQueen heard the fear as he sat back. "I won't hurt you, Patrick. Trust me." Gently running a finger down from the heavy balls, he asked, "You've kept everyone away from here, haven't you?"

A jerky nod was the answer.

"I can imagine why. It's hard enough when you're fully grown, but only eight?" McQueen shook his head slightly and then moved up to kiss him. He met Patrick's frightened eyes squarely. "I promise, Patrick, I will not hurt you. Will you trust me?"

It took Patrick a moment to find his voice again. He turned his head away, cheeks red with shame. "I've tried and tried. But none of them knew... They hadn't been..." A single tear escaped. "What a joke. A vampire who can't perform fully." His throat choked on tears.

McQueen forced Patrick to look at him. "Will you trust me?"

"I want to."

"If at any time you want me to stop, all you have to do is tell me. Ok?" McQueen rubbed a tear off the tanned cheek.

After a moment, Patrick nodded. "I want to try."

"We'll do this together."

The slow, sensuous kiss that McQueen gave Patrick achieved the desired goal, rekindling the ebbing desire. He started all over, taking his time.

Nipping lightly at his under arm, McQueen realized that part of Patrick's scent included raspberry. "You showered before coming here."

"I was hoping..."

"You're a considerate lover, Patrick." McQueen gave him another kiss.

Patrick writhed on the bed, whimpering, by the time McQueen reached the dark haired groin. Mouth priming the hard shaft, McQueen used one hand to roll, knead and tug gently on the heavy sacs. The back of the fingers on his other hand he rested firmly on the sensitive skin below. After a few minutes, he started stroking downward.

Ready for the next step, McQueen gave a long hard suck as he bent Patrick's legs at the knees. He nibbled down the twitching cock, sucked briefly at the base, before licking his way between the parted buttocks. Before Patrick could protest, McQueen started rimming him. The strangled scream and the way Patrick twisted frantically spoke eloquently of remaining nerve endings.

Concerned though about the violence of Patrick's reaction, McQueen asked, "Does it hurt?"

"No!"

"Then I shall continue."

"Oh, yes!"

McQueen returned to teasing and pleasuring the scarred opening, forcing incoherent sounds from Patrick. After several minutes, McQueen sat up to see how he fared. A smile lit his eyes at the sight of Patrick in a pleasure-induced daze. Seizing the opportunity, McQueen used the lubricant. He eased one finger inside him, taking his time, ensuring that plenty of lube coated the passage. Moving his finger back and forth, McQueen took advantage of Patrick's relaxed state to stretch the scarred muscle group.

"TC?" Pat sounded unsure several minutes later.

"Am I hurting you?"

"Not exactly."

Patrick remained relaxed so McQueen started on the next phase. He stroked Patrick's prostate, chuckling softly at the way Patrick nearly arched off the bed with a choked scream.

"What...what was that?" Patrick trembled on the bed, breathing hard. "Is that... what it's like when I... do it to my partners?"

"Yes."

McQueen stroked the sensitive spot often enough to keep the level of intensity going up. He watched him carefully, hoping that he'd be unaware when he started another finger. Despite his efforts, Patrick stiffened.

"Patrick?" He stopped his hand.

"It hurts some. Don't stop."

"I don't want any of this to hurt."

"Just do it. Please."

When he hesitated, Patrick shoved himself toward McQueen, impaling himself. A groan escaped. "There. The worst is done."

Frowning, McQueen looked at Patrick's face.

"I want you in me before the night is out. Don't pussyfoot around. A little pain is nothing. Now, please, keep going."

McQueen shook his head slightly. "Damn pushy vampire." He smiled to take the sting out.

Some more lubricant and McQueen resumed pleasuring him. As Patrick succumbed to the intoxicating pleasure, McQueen decided to give him the first climax of the evening. He kept his hand going as he used his mouth. It took only minutes for Patrick to arch upward, overwhelmed.

Finished for the moment, McQueen went into the bathroom, licking his lips clean, and washed his hands thoroughly. Patrick still hadn't recovered when he returned and he brushed his fingers across the smooth forehead. Realizing that Patrick wouldn't get any more relaxed, McQueen settled back in place, lifting Patrick's legs over his shoulders. Any time he felt resistance as he eased into him, McQueen paused, waiting for the vampire's body to become accustomed to the larger intruder.

"That almost hurts." Patrick sighed. "But probably a good idea."

"How long-"

"Not long. Are you ready to move?"

"Not yet. You haven't finished adjusting."

"Try it anyway."

"I'll decide when I'm ready." McQueen gave Patrick a gentle slap on the behind.

"I'm being pushy again."

"You said it."

After a moment, McQueen started moving back and forth slowly, lifting Patrick's hips.

"Oh, yeah," moaned Patrick, fingers clenching the headboard bars.

Once he could move without resistance, McQueen said, "Let's shift to the edge."

The move changed McQueen's angle and depth of penetration, causing Patrick to thrust his hips at McQueen. "Damn, but I wish I could have had someone do this a long time ago."

"You needed to want to trust the person you let do this."

"I think you're right."

Several slow thrusts were all McQueen needed to make sure that he wasn't causing Patrick any pain. He sped up gradually, enjoying the passionate fire in the brilliant jade eyes. Hand wrapped in the covers, Patrick met each thrust with soft moans of desire, urging McQueen to move faster and deeper.

Not ready to send either of them over the edge yet, McQueen slowed down, taking deep calming breaths.

"No!" Patrick sobbed for breath. "I was so damned close."

"I know. Not just yet."

"Never figured you for a torturer."

"Just for that..." McQueen slowed down even further, resisting all of Patrick's physical attempts to get him back up to speed.

"Uncle!" Twisting desperately, Patrick gave the children's sign of surrender.

McQueen laughed low in his throat and sped up. This time, they would finish together.

Incoherent mumbles issued from Patrick as he thrashed and continued meeting McQueen's thrusts. Wanting Patrick to slide over first, McQueen wrapped a hand around the abandoned hard shaft and started pumping it in rhythm. Patrick came, nearly screaming with the intensity. The additional stimulation as Patrick's muscles contracted sent McQueen over the edge with a soft cry. He slumped down onto his elbows over Patrick a moment later.

Patrick remained out of it when McQueen recovered several minutes later. Pleased with the outcome, McQueen staggered to the bathroom where he took a fast shower. He returned with a warm washcloth to clean up the mess on the tanned abdomen and saw that Patrick's eyes had opened.

The last of the mess cleaned up, McQueen asked, "All right?"

Patrick reached up and pulled McQueen down, devouring his mouth. "That was fantastic," he murmured in McQueen's ear, refusing to release him.

"Glad you enjoyed it."

"I seem to be one up on you, though." Patrick pulled McQueen down beside him, rolling him onto his back. "Time to remedy the situation, I think." He proceeded to kiss McQueen, exploring and tasting.

Running his hands along McQueen's arms, Patrick whispered, "Hands behind your head. After all, fair is fair." The green eyes danced with mischief.

Obeying, McQueen could barely restrain his moans, as Patrick started kissing and nibbling from behind his ear to the base of his throat. As slender fingers trailed patterns on the underside of his arms, the mouth moved the torture to his chest. Fire started zinging along his nerves.

His fingers clenched tightly behind his head as the sensuous mouth began trailing kisses down his abdomen. The fire became heat, burning through him. Helpless under the assault, McQueen twisted on the bed, heat consuming his body. The hot mouth and capable hands started attacking his thighs and the heat intensified.

The occasional brush or touch accidentally on his cock or balls made him writhe in anticipation. Patrick started paying attention to his balls and a gut deep groan escaped McQueen from the intense flare-up. He arched off the bed when Patrick's mouth sucked on his aching shaft.

When Patrick withdrew after several exultant minutes, McQueen sobbed. "Now who's torturing, hm?" he managed after a moment.

"Not for long. I want you too much to keep this up for too long."

McQueen felt the coolness of lubricant between his buttocks and closed his eyes, relaxing the required muscles. "Shouldn't need to take too long."

"Just want to be sure. Don't want you damaged in any way. Lysa'd have my head."

"Which one?" McQueen grinned.

Patrick laughed. "Whichever one she got hold of first."

First one finger then a second pressed and entered. Patrick worked to stretch him first. When the fingers brushed his prostate, McQueen gasped as liquid fire seared its way to his brain. He panted for breath, feeling Patrick easing inside. In minutes, Patrick lay snugly enveloped in his flesh. "Damn, but that feels good." He lifted his legs over Patrick's shoulders.

Patrick smiled and started the next phase of the dance.

To McQueen's delight, Patrick soon couldn't manage a steady pace, increasing speed, which McQueen matched. Prostate stimulated both ways; McQueen spiraled higher and higher, increasingly desperate for the final climax. The added stimulation of fingers curling around his cock sent him over the edge with an explosion of pleasure.

An arm wrapped around his chest was the first thing McQueen noticed. Followed by the fact that he lay on his side under the covers. The flat, hard body behind him shifted slightly. "I'm awake."

"You must have been tired."

The hand traced patterns on his chest. "Yes. Forty miles, twenty laps. I'm pretty beat."

"Do you want me to leave then?"

He felt Patrick withdraw slightly. "Stay, please. I could use some company." Patrick settled back against him. "Just be warned. I often have nightmares. Violent ones."

"So do I."

"No wonder Lysa's so good at helping me. She learned helping you."

"Yes. Our parents are devoted to their work. Sometimes it amazes me that they even had time to have kids. Well, they didn't have the vaguest clue how to deal with me after... the AIs. So, for a while, they ignored my nightmares. Lysa couldn't. She started sleeping in my bed so she could be there when I woke up. Even now, I have trouble sleeping alone. I prefer to have someone there, even if not in my bed. I couldn't go back to school; I'd have hysterical attacks."

"It's no wonder."

"So it was decided that I would be home-schooled for a while until I could go back to school. I never did. I'm part of the reason the school is here for the Invitroes. My father decided that I shouldn't be the only one in the class. So he opened the school to the Invitroes. It's been going strong ever since."

"So something good came from the ordeal."

"At the cost of my mental and physical health, yes." Patrick pulled him closer.

"What? I thought-"

"It has taken years for me to be able to be intimate with anyone. I was shell-shocked for three days. I didn't talk; I didn't hear anyone; I did nothing except scream from time to time. Then when I came out of it, I couldn't stand to be touched."

"A living nightmare."

"It was extremely hard on my parents, especially my mother. She would go to brush her fingers across my cheek or my hair and I would pull away. As much as I wanted to be held and touched, I couldn't let anyone do it for months. And it was Lysa who was the first. I would wake screaming and she would be wrapped around me, crying. I was nearly twelve before I stopped flinching whenever someone touched me." Patrick sighed. "But enough of that. You don't need to be burdened with my trials. Go back to sleep."

"I'll try."

"It's three o'clock. Would you like an extra half hour of sleep or some morning activity?"

The voice spoke in McQueen's ear. He blinked, processed the statement and the voice even as he fully woke up. "The fun, I believe."

A mouth covered his and a hand grasped him firmly.

By the time McQueen reached the bathroom, he felt quite awake. He dialed up a hot shower and stood under the pulsing spray for several minutes before washing. The water off, he opened the shower door and found Patrick holding a towel. He took it with a smile.

"You're delicious in the morning, you know."

"So I've been told." McQueen ran the towel over his head.

"I'm glad Lysa has you. She deserves a good man."

Toweling off his back, McQueen raised an eyebrow. "I've been warned to expect the three of you."

Patrick grinned. "She is our sister, even if she can pound any two of us into the ground."

"I'm lucky to have her." McQueen swiped down his front and started on his legs.

"Do you mind if I stay here for a while? I just don't want to get dressed in order to get to my rooms." Patrick leaned against the wall.

"It's fine."

"TC, thank you for last night. And everything."

McQueen swung the towel so that it wrapped around Patrick and grabbed the other end to pull him close kissing him. "I enjoyed it. You're welcome. I'm glad I could help."

"I don't suppose..."

"I don't know, Patrick. But you might talk to Russell. He'd like to be a friend and perhaps something more if you let him."

"Russell, hm? I'll talk to him sometime today."

"Now, get back in bed so I can get dressed. I don't want to keep Cassie waiting."

Patrick grinned and slipped away.


	17. Blood and Souls, Chapter Seventeen

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17

Spoilers: None

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

E-mail: and Souls

Chapter Seventeen

"Hi, Ty." Cassie's cheerful voice echoed in the multi-vehicle garage.

"Hello, Cassie." McQueen found her beside a small, dark blue, four-person air car. "Is this the one we're taking?"

"Yes. Dad said it was ok, here's the keys." As she handed him the keys, she added, "I packed some sandwiches, plus two thermoses. One of coffee and the other of hot chocolate."

As he unlocked the vehicle, he said, "Good thinking. I'll take some coffee once we're air- borne."

The aromas of coffee and hot chocolate mingled in the air car's cabin, instantly igniting his hunger. He took the offered cup a few minutes into the flight. "So what's our flight plan?"

Cassie leaned forward and activated the air car's onboard computer. "It's in here. Dad and I programmed it last night. The autopilot should be able to handle it."

"Autopilot? Are you kidding?" He set the cup into a holder.

"It's kind of hard to eat and fly, isn't it?" She gave him a sly grin.

He felt his stomach rumble. "All right. Autopilot it is, but I'm keeping an eye on it."

"Sure thing."

As Cassie activated the autopilot, McQueen felt the slight tightening of the tension in the steering wheel under his hands. He waited until the 'ON' button lit up green before slowly removing his hands. "I don't trust autopilots."

"You're a pilot, I wouldn't expect you to." She rummaged through the pack at her feet. "I brought eight sandwiches. That should hold us until we get back."

"I would think so." He took the roast beef and Swiss sandwich she handed him. As he started eating, he watched Cassie open another one, pulling out a thick ham and Swiss sandwich.

He had finished eating the sandwich when Cassie said, "I saw Cheryle bring in West and 'Phousse last night. And Derrick told me he brought Vansen up."

"Yes. I didn't expect to see any of them until today. Who's Derrick?"

"One of the regular drivers. He drives Grandma to Frisco, LA and Phoenix at least once a week." She finished her sandwich and sipped her hot chocolate.

"Are you doing ok?"

"With the vampire thing? Oh, yes. I'm soaking up everything I have to know. And my control is very good now."

"So who's in your circle?"

"The only one you know is Gayle. I've got another woman and two men. There's a couple of boys and girls who are a few years older than me. No one closer to my age."

"When does the change usually happen?"

"Fourteen to fifteen."

"So it hits in late puberty?"

"Yes. Though signs will usually start appearing around twelve to thirteen. That allows the adults to start the necessary training."

"Which they couldn't do with you because you just changed. How very inconsiderate of you, Cassie." He gave her a mock frown and then smiled. "So you're fourteen now."

"My birthday was last month. Mom renewed my pass to Edwards so I can continue my training there. And she arranged for me to go to the Middle East. I saw some of the neatest old fortresses."

He chuckled. "Not many kids are interested in old fortresses. Which ones?"

"Masada and Krak des Chevaliers. They were fantastic."

"And very old."

McQueen listened as Cassie expounded on her time at the fortresses. Part of his attention he kept on the autopilot, double-checking their course against what was displayed on the HUD. He smiled into his coffee as she described imagining medieval knights charging across the countryside.

She gave him another sandwich when he asked and continued talking, pouring both of them some more to drink when necessary. The point came when Cassie finally wound down, sipping her hot chocolate and staring out the window into the darkness.

"Ty, what happened to Mom?" Anxious and low, her voice barely reached his ears.

"When?"

"This last time. I know there was a battle. Mom was in Sickbay for some time. Why?"

"How do you find these things out?"

"I listen. No one tells me anything, so I pretend to be busy."

"They want to protect you. You shouldn't have to worry about your mother."

Cassie shook her head. "I'd rather know."

"For what it's worth, I agree with you." He checked the autopilot, sipped his coffee and sighed, turning halfway to face her. "The Chigs creamed us, Cassie. They nearly destroyed the 5th Fleet. The 'Toga took some really bad hits. Lysa got the commodore off the bridge before another series of hits landed."

"But?"

"She evacuated the bridge and stayed behind to try and hit back." He felt his throat constrict as he remembered the sight of the fireball. "Everything above the bridge was destroyed, and communication was lost."

"You thought she was dead."

McQueen nodded sharply. "The 'Toga was a mess. Her engines were dead, no one fired from her for a couple of hours. We figured they were all dead. But not everyone was." He took a deep breath. "The gravity fields for the upper portion of the ship were taken out. It took the few remaining engineering crews nearly five hours to restore gravity. Communications were localized and scattered. No one had contact with the bridge or the auxiliary bridge."

"Obviously Mom wasn't dead."

"She'd been knocked out when the superstructure was destroyed. There was trauma to her brain, though she didn't know it. The bridge heaters had failed. The heat leached out into space." He repressed a shiver, remembering how pale Silver had appeared. "She managed to open communications to some parts of the ship. She brought the 'Toga back into the fight." He sipped his coffee, needing to marshal his thoughts. "She spent seven hours in extremely cold temperatures. Once the Chigs withdrew-"

"Why?"

"The Sixth Fleet arrived." When she nodded, he continued. "Once the fighting was over, Lysa was no longer focused. Severe hypothermia had already set in, only the adrenalin rush of the battle had kept her conscious, and being a vampire I suspect helped."

"How cold did she get?"

"Doctors said her core temperature had dropped to sixty-six."

Cassie closed her eyes. "Bad, very bad."

"Yes. But, the cold apparently helped in reducing any brain damage. She hasn't complained of anything unusual." He drank some more coffee. "It was four days before the doctors let her regain consciousness."

Sighing, she poured herself some more hot chocolate. "I see why they didn't want to tell me. She's fully recovered now?"

"Completely. Even has her clearance for flying and ground work."

Nodding, she cradled her cup. "Good. I know how much it means to her."

"I know you do."

She looked up at him. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Cassie."

"Good. Because we have some climbing to do."

"Any where you go, I'll follow."

He watched the twinkle return to her eyes. "We'll see."

"So, when did you become interested in ancient history?"

The rest of the hour passed with them comparing the histories and philosophies of the East and the West. When the autopilot alerted them that they were approaching their destination, Cassie directed him where to fly and what to look for. He settled the aircar neatly into a parking spot in the well-lit lot surrounded by forest.

Slipping the keys into his jeans pocket, McQueen glanced around and felt his breath taken away. Even in the darkness he could tell these trees were immense, towering up into the darkness.

Cassie handed him a wrist light. As he fastened it to the back of his left wrist, she said, "We have roughly an hour to get to our destination. The first part of the trail is pretty easy so we can probably jog along. Then we have to climb."

"Lead on."

Twenty minutes of jogging through the sparse undergrowth gave McQueen an eerie feeling. Revealed in his light were massive tree trunks easily ten feet across. The occasional fifteen-foot width would show up further back from the trail. Cassie stayed ahead of him easily, her pack bouncing on her back, her light sweeping back and forth across the trail and into the forest to either side.

He felt the ground rising steadily. He followed as Cassie took a sharp left off the trail noticing that there was in fact a faint trail that she was running on. After a few minutes the ground rose abruptly, ending a moment later at the base of a scalable cliff.

"Cassie, just how did you find this place you're taking me?"

"I was led to it."

"By whom?"

She shook her head. "You'll know who when you get there. From here, we climb." Shrugging off her pack, Cassie started rummaging through it. She tossed something at him. "Here. This will help with the climb. It's only two hundred feet."

The object she tossed turned out to be a set of climbing gloves similar to ones the military used. Despite fabric so thin as to be almost transparent, the gloves were tear resistant and roughened for an improved grip that still allowed the climber the ability to feel every grain of sand under their fingers and hands.

He slipped the gloves on. "Two hundred feet. A cake walk." he grinned.

Cassie giggled. "Let's see what you think after we get up there." She shone her light to the right. "After all, that came from up there."

Huge boulders lay at the foot of the cliff, large enough to stand behind. Broken across the boulders were the remains of a redwood. The root system left rose nearly twenty feet in the air and the trunk disappeared in the distance.

Suddenly sobered, McQueen eyed the cliff with renewed respect.

It took thirty minutes to reach the cliff top. Cassie waited for him as he clambered over the top, breathing hard. "Piece of cake?"

"Impudent brat." He smiled at her and squeezed her shoulder. "So now where?"

"This way."

Following her, McQueen stripped off the gloves and tucked them into a pocket. Five minutes of walking through more of the great redwoods brought them to a clearing. Cassie turned off her light and went nearly fifty feet from the edge of the trees.

When he stopped beside her, she reached over and turned off his light. "Look up."

Millions of stars shone in the clear sky. McQueen sighed involuntarily, drinking in the sight. When Cassie turned him around, he didn't resist. Bit by bit, the stars faded under the rising sun. As the sky above lightened, he lowered his gaze and gasped. The trees he had seen up to now had been mere saplings compared to these giants. Half a dozen trees with girths of forty feet stood before him, surrounded by others of merely twenty to twenty-five feet wide. He guessed that the trees rose at least four hundred and fifty feet into the air.

He felt the need to turn around. Doing so he stared, stunned.

Twenty feet away the earth dropped out of sight, plunging down into a huge tree covered valley. On the opposite side of the valley, he could see a waterfall cascading down five hundred feet to the tops of the trees. Beyond the far side of the valley he could see snow capped mountains rising into the sky, tinged pink from the rising sun. Nothing of man intruded to mar the sight.

"If this is what Muir opened his eyes to, then no wonder he found God." He stared out over the valley, feeling small and insignificant, yet awed by the grandeur. "No man can measure up to this."

"The Master Engineer takes great delight in such places as this."

"I don't doubt it," he answered before he realized he didn't know the female voice. He turned in place and found himself facing what he hastily assumed to be the upright version of a vampire's primal form. "Where's Cassie?"

"She is waiting for you in the forest. I wanted the chance to speak to you and this seemed as good a place as any. If not better. This is so much like home."

"Who are you?"

"You know my name, Tyrus Cassius McQueen." The nearly black eyes stared at him.

"Jalke." He swallowed hard as he realized that he could see through the honey colored form.

"Yes." The heavy lips on the muzzle curled into a smile that revealed the fangs and the upright ears pricked forward. "Does this form disconcert you?"

"Somewhat."

Light engulfed her and she stood before him, a blonde woman clothed in white fabric. "Is this better?"

"Yes." A tremor ran through him at the thought he was standing talking to a goddess.

"I'm not a goddess, my son. I am more like your concept of an angel. I am capable of some influence, but I cannot create something like the universes. That is the realm of the Master Builder."

"You're reading my mind."

"You are thinking very loudly, my child." She smiled at him, the kind of smile he had often seen mothers give their children. Love and acceptance shone in her eyes. "You have done well in this life, my child. I only wanted to tell you something."

"I'm not a vampire. How can you call me your child?"

"It doesn't matter what you are throughout your lives. You are one of my children through many lives. I have an affinity for those who fight and struggle to be more than others would make them." She reached up and drew ghostly fingers across his cheek. "I knew when your soul was born that you would be one of my children. And now, you have finally found your soul mate. At last."

He had to lick his lips before asking, "What...what did you want to tell me?"

"You will not be parted from your love in this life, so long as you are willing to trust."

"Trust who?"

"Yourself, your love, your friends. You must learn to trust them, even in your darkest hour. All who love you, you must trust."

"With what?"

"Yourself." Jalke faded slightly. "I must go, my child. Remember what I have said."

"Jalke!" He reached out toward her.

She faded away in a sparkle of light.

Alone, McQueen sank to the ground, feeling as if he had just run forty miles.

"Ty?"

He glanced up and saw Cassie approaching. "I'm all right."

"I think you got the answer to your question."

"Jalke wanted to tell me something."

"I thought so. She had something to tell Mom too that time I brought her. I don't know what. Mom never spoke of it, except to say that life was never easy." She sat down beside him. "Are you sorry you came?"

"No." McQueen pulled Cassie to him, hugging her tightly. "It's a beautiful place."

"I'm glad you think so." She wrapped her arms around him, snuggling against his chest.

"Thank you, Cassie. Both for showing me and for bringing me to speak to Jalke."

"You're welcome."

Tilting his head back, McQueen watched as the trees gathered the sunlight, becoming vast green giants. He took a deep breath, smelling the rich scents from the forest. Calmness spread through him as he realized that he was accepting the fact that he had actually spoken to an angel. Hell, if vampires were real, who knew what else was?

"Did you bring the sandwiches?"

"Yes. And the thermoses."

"How about a sandwich and coffee?"

"Ok."

She moved off his lap to sit beside him, knees touching. After pouring him coffee and handing him a sandwich, Cassie sipped her own drink. "You know, she doesn't usually talk to folks. Not directly."

"Oh?"

"Both her and Hakur communicate through the High Priest or one of the aides. That's part of their job." Cassie took out a sandwich for herself.

"So, what does it mean?" He could guess, but he wanted to check.

"As you suspect, just that she's interested in you, for one reason or another." Cassie smiled. "I think she's been trying to get you and Mom together for some time now."

"I rather got that impression." Just how long, he wasn't sure he really wanted to know. McQueen finished his sandwich before asking, "When did you find this place?"

"Two years ago. I was down here with Mom and Griffin. While trying to track them down, I followed the urges that led me up here. It's spectacular up here any time of day. I knew I had to get Mom up here to see the sunrise. I talked them into camping where we climbed up. Then I woke Mom up and brought her up here. I saw Jalke talking to her and knew I wasn't supposed to listen. I waited in the trees."

McQueen nodded and drank some more coffee. "What made you decide to bring me?"

"When you asked about the redwoods, I just knew."

"I'm certainly glad you brought me, Cassie." He swept his arm out, taking in the up thrust of land they sat on and the entire valley. "It's simply gorgeous. Makes me wonder how it was created."

"Well, I can answer that." When he gave her an intent look, she laughed. "I made it my science project that year. I was so intrigued by the lay of the land and all, I just had to find out." She sipped her drink before continuing. "Remember back in '40, California had that really major earthquake? The one that rattled the walls back home even and as far east as Texas? Even Florida and Guatemala felt it; it was so huge."

"I've read about it."

"Well, not only did it flatten over half the buildings from Tijuana to Frisco, it did this. More than twenty miles of that valley down there dropped over a hundred feet. This piece here," she patted the ground before her, "which, by the way, is over fifteen miles long, it rose over two hundred feet." She grinned. "Mother Nature at work is pretty damned awesome."

"Most definitely." He looked around once more, drinking in the sight. "We should probably head back."

"Will you tell me about some of the worlds you've seen?"

"I was usually too busy fighting to pay attention to the planet."

"Surely there are things you do remember, like the color of the sky, what kind of plants. I just want to hear whatever you can remember. Please."

"So long as we walk back to the aircar."

"Deal."

He dredged his memory for the details and found that he could sometimes even recall how the air smelled. An active listener, Cassie sometimes prompted him with specific questions. All the way back to the aircar and the entire trip back to the estate, he regaled her with what he knew, sometimes giving details of fights on those worlds. The sandwiches were finished when he landed the aircar and glided it forward into the garage.

The aircar parked, he handed the keys back to Cassie. "Give them to your father."

"I thought I'd fly off to Middle Earth." She pocketed the keys.

"Not without me or your mother." He grinned. "Better make that me and your mother."

"Are you hooked now?" Cassie climbed out and shut the door.

"Damned straight. I'm on my third time through and I'm still discovering things I missed the other times." Shutting the driver's door, he shook his head. "I'm becoming a science-fiction, fantasy junkie."

"There are worse things. After all, you're living what those authors could only dream about."

"I know and that sometimes scares me."

She stopped walking and stared at him. "What?"

He faced her. "If I'm living what others could only dream up less than a century ago, what about the future that writers are only now imagining? Given what technology we have now and what we know about the universe, what will that future be like? What futures will they dream up? And is there any way that I can make sure that it's a better future? And what would be required of me to do it?"

"All that you can give and then some."

He spun around at the sound of Jake's voice.

"Sorry. I saw you fly in. I'm headed out to visit a patient of mine." Jake gave McQueen an easy smile. "I just couldn't help answering. It's one of the questions posed by Hakur at the forging of the Covenant. He asked Jalke what would be required of him to create this peace and she told him never more than he could give." Jake leaned against another aircar. "Of course, it's also the answer all heroes, and soldiers, know. Isn't it?"

He nodded. "Up to and including your life."

"Yes." Jake sighed softly. "I hope never to see that outcome with _any_ of you." He held McQueen's gaze. With a shrug, he broke contact and stepped back. "I have to get out of here or I'm going to be late. And I want to be back by dinner."

He watched Jake fly away, realizing that Jake had accepted him as family already. He shook his head slightly, still astounded at the way he was being made a part of the family.

"We might be able to get some breakfast if we hurry. I'm still hungry." Cassie rubbed her stomach.

"Still fueling the change?"

"Yes. In addition to just being a teenager."

"Then we better hurry," he laughed.

She looked him over critically. "You know, you need to eat more."

He chuckled. "That's what your grandmother said. I _have_ been eating well for nearly a week now."

"But you'll burn off the extra calories. Mom'll make sure of that." Cassie grinned, ducking his mock punch.

"Brat."

"Colonel Dad."

He staggered, hand over his heart, eyes laughing. "Oh, a direct hit." He paused, and then said, "Private Daughter." It pleased him to see her pick up both meanings.

"Really?" When he nodded to her, Cassie flung her arms around him. "Thank you, Dad," she whispered into his chest.

Cupping the back of her head with a hand, McQueen hugged her back. "Now," he growled, "it's time to eat, Private Daughter."

"Yes, sir, Colonel Dad."

In the dining room, the entire 5-8 sat at several tables they had pushed together, eating and talking. Vansen spotted McQueen first and gestured to an extra chair between her and St. John. He nodded and went to investigate the remains of the buffet. Deciding on five slices of bacon and the still fresh scrambled eggs with mushrooms and onions mixed in, he poured himself a large orange juice and drank half before refilling it. As he watched, Cassie took three pieces of French toast, six slices of bacon, four sausages, a large helping of the scrambled eggs and an enormous corn muffin with a side of honey.

"What do you want to drink?" he asked her.

"Any apple juice left?"

He checked. "Enough for a large glass."

"I'll take it. Please."

She took the glass, setting it on her tray, and looked at his plate, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head and dutifully put a large blueberry muffin on his plate.

Picking up her plate, Cassie spun smartly on her heel and marched over to the 5-8. "Can I join you?"

'Phousse grabbed an spare chair and slid it between herself and Hawkes. "Sure thing, Cassie. Come on over here."

Sitting down, McQueen listened as his kids resumed their conversation.

"So, Nathan, your Dad really tried to get you to quit the Corps?" Hawkes paused in devouring his scrambled eggs.

West sighed, pushing the remains of his eggs around on his plate. "Yeah. He kept harping on the fact that I could have been court-martialed for the incident on Anvil, and that no son of his was going to be dishonorably discharged and put in prison. He said I should get out before I get myself killed like Neil."

"Pretty tough, Nathan, especially after they didn't want you to join in the first place." Wang shook his head. "My family appears to be dealing with me all right. They do wonder why the hell I didn't go for a medical discharge though."

"What did you tell them?" asked West.

"That we need every available person out there fighting, and that if I can take some of the burden off you, then I'm helping out." Wang grinned. "And I wanted to be with my friends."

'Phousse reached over and took Wang's hand with a smile. "We want you there."

Nods came from the original squad.

"And guys, since it's going to be a while before I get to join you in the fighting, I would really appreciate it if you would take any and all Elroy's you find out there and turn them into so much scrap." Wang squeezed 'Phousse's hand.

"Sure thing, Paul." West turned to Vansen. "So, how's the baby, Shane?"

"Adorable. Growing well." Vansen ducked her head. "I brought some pictures."

"Let's see them, Shane." 'Phousse grinned. "You're the only one here with little ones in the family. And I've been dying to see some baby pictures."

Vansen pushed a packet up from beside her plate. "Here."

The chatter turned to the pictures. McQueen looked at the pictures last in the circle and handed them back to Vansen, non-committal about the baby's appearance. It was just a baby to him.

He waited until the last picture to say, "Everyone remember to be in your rooms at 1100."

"Yes, sir," chorused the 5-8.

"Sir, what are you doing this afternoon?" asked Vansen.

For just a second, McQueen hesitated. "I'm going to swim and read beside the pool." He rose, picking up his empty plate and glass. "Lunch will be at 1300 hours today."

"Yes, sir."

Putting his plate and glass on the counter, McQueen saw that Russell, Finch and St. John were getting up as well. Russell quickly slid his plate and cup onto the counter besides McQueen's and left the room, muttering under his breath. Stepping up, Finch set hers down followed by St. John.

"See you at lunch, sir."

McQueen nodded and headed for the library for some more books.

The middle-aged, slim tailor was just finishing a minor adjustment when someone knocked on McQueen's door. As he obediently followed the tailor's order to roll his shoulders, McQueen called out, "Who is it?"

"Patrick."

"Come on in."

Patrick opened the door and stepped inside, something in his hand. He looked up and whistled at the sight of McQueen in the black tuxedo. The fabric clung to McQueen's body, accentuating his shoulders, slender waist and well-formed legs. Over the cream shirt's buttons ran no-nonsense ivory lace down to the dark blue cummerbund.

"Damn, but Mother's got great taste." Patrick grinned, drinking in the view.

"Isn't it a bit...well, tight?" Though he could move freely, somehow he felt as if he were on exhibit with all too much visible.

"Not for our ceremonies. We like to show off the assets. Now, if it were for a ceremony outside the Family, then it would be more conventional. But I like this. Damn, but you look good." Patrick circled around McQueen. "Absolutely delicious."

Turning his head, McQueen could see the desire in Patrick's eyes. "Patrick."

"Not to worry. You're not in any danger." Standing before McQueen, arms folded, he said, "They'll be salivating in the aisles."

McQueen felt his cheeks redden at the thought. He cleared his throat. "Why are you here?"

"Father decided I should bring this to you." Patrick opened his hand out flat. A six-inch dagger and sheath were revealed. "It's our custom to give a warrior a weapon to wear during the ceremony."

"I'm almost afraid to ask why."

"You know how in a marriage ceremony, the priest asks, 'If anyone objects to this union, let him speak now or forever hold his peace'?"

"Yes."

"For us, it goes, 'Anyone who objects to this union, step forth and defend it with your blood.' We are a fairly blood thirsty lot, you know."

"And then what happens?"

"Used to be that the warrior would have to defend himself against any objectors. Rarely happens these days."

"Good thing. I wouldn't like to have to defend myself against one of you." McQueen gave Patrick a sharp look. "What happens, Patrick?"

"If, and I really stress the if, someone objected they would stand, identify themselves, and come forward. Depending on which of you he objected to, he would square off against you or Lysa with his own dagger. A fight to first blood is all that's allowed and scratches, not real injuries."

"Not my idea of a wedding."

"Nor ours. Matters are usually settled long before it comes to bloodletting." Patrick undid the couple of buttons that closed the tux and pulled the left side open. He attached the sheath to the short chains hanging from the cummerbund.

"I was wondering what those were for. He wouldn't tell me." McQueen glared at the tailor.

"I had instructions not to." The tailor stood straight, arms crossed. "I'm well paid and do not cross my employer."

McQueen turned back to Patrick. "And what happens if someone objects to a marriage that does not have a warrior?"

Patrick's eyes turned hard and fierce. His smile became predatory as he straightened.

A shiver went up McQueen's spine. "Right. I forgot for a moment."

"Even the most inoffensive of us knows our first form." Patrick relaxed his stance.

The tailor nodded. "Indeed we do. Though it is considered extremely bad manners to change in public."

"Do even the Remal know the first form?" McQueen faced Patrick squarely.

"Push comes to shove, any Remal who's been with vampires regularly can revert to it." Nodding to the tailor, Patrick added, "Ken, here, regularly works out in first form."

Patrick shrugged as he stepped back, running his eyes over McQueen once more. "Sis can certainly pick them."

"How's she doing?"

"Finished. Like there was any question?" Patrick grinned. "She said she would see you at dinner. When she's done with the fitting, she's sleeping. Not to be disturbed for anything. She meant it." His grin faded somewhat. "She really needs sleep. I think she only grabbed a few hours here and there. Plus she needs to satisfy the hunger."

"Yes." McQueen sighed. "I hope I can spend some time with her tonight."

"Especially since tomorrow you don't get to see her until she walks down the aisle."

McQueen groaned. "That's the part I hate."

"Hey, you don't want to piss off Jalke. She's been known to make the first year of a couple's life together miserable just because they sneaked some time together after midnight. That's the way she did it and that's the way she wants us to do it. She does make exceptions from time to time, but if you have the time for the formal ceremony, no."

"So how long tomorrow do I have to wait?"

"Mother stated that the ceremony **_will_** start exactly at eleven am. Come hell or high water." Patrick chuckled. "So if you value your skin, be there. You do **_not_** want to see Mother in a snit."

"I have no intention of causing one."

Patrick nodded. "Now, are you going to need help tomorrow getting dressed?"

"No."

"Darn." Patrick's eyes twinkled. "I was hoping to volunteer."

"Sorry." McQueen shook his head before asking quietly, "Do you know if Hawkes and the others are finished?"

"I can find out for you." Ken fished a headset out of his breast pocket. Putting it on, he said, "Group check in." After a moment of "Yes," "I see," "Good," "Be there in a moment," and "There's always one," he looked at McQueen.

"All except West and Hawkes are finished. There were some minor problems with West's suit. But Hawkes... I'm afraid he is not cooperating very well. I knew I should have taken him. Tony could have done yours in his sleep, but he wanted the challenge."

"Let's go see Hawkes." McQueen gestured for Ken to precede him. "After you, sir."

Ken inclined his head, quickly masking his surprise at the courtesy. "Thank you." He headed for the door.

"I think I'll let you two straighten out Hawkes. I have some other things to get ready for tonight." Patrick clapped McQueen on the shoulder lightly. "We are going to have some fun."

McQueen groaned. "Don't tell me that."

Walking beside him to the door, Patrick laughed. "Don't worry. Lysa laid down the law as to what was acceptable."

"That's supposed to reassure me?" Smiling, McQueen shut his room's door.

Laughing, Patrick walked away.

McQueen sighed and followed Ken to Hawkes' rooms. He knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" came Hawkes' surly voice.

"Colonel McQueen."

"Come in, sir," was the speedy response.

Stepping inside, McQueen felt sympathy for the obviously frustrated Tony. Hawkes stood, arms crossed, clad only in a t-shirt, briefs and socks. At his feet lay the various articles of clothing in disarray, which Tony was retrieving. McQueen could only hope that none had been badly damaged.

"Explain yourself, Lieutenant!"

The barked command brought Hawkes to attention and he swiveled in place to face McQueen. "Sir, I-" His voice died away at the sight of McQueen's outfit.

A chuckle almost escaped McQueen at the comical look on Hawkes' face, but he managed to glare at the young man. "I am waiting, Lieutenant."

"Ah...I..."

Tony, with a relieved look at Ken, finished picking the clothing off the floor and setting it on the bed. "He refuses to try it on. Says it is unmanly."

"Drop and give me twenty-five, Lieutenant!" McQueen allowed his displeasure to show.

"Yes, sir!" Hawkes dropped to the floor and immediately started pushups.

McQueen walked over to the bed to examine the crumpled clothing. Instead of a black tuxedo, Ruth had chosen the same dark blue as his own cummerbund. A lighter blue cummerbund matching Hawkes' eyes went over another cream shirt with ivory lace. "Is this what they're all wearing?"

"All of the younger men, yes." Ken stiffened slightly at the slight bite to McQueen's tone.

McQueen quirked a smile and saw Ken relax. "All of the younger men? Who else is there?"

"I dispatched one of my best fitters to oversee Commodore Ross' measurements."

"I bet that gave the commodore something to explain to his wife." McQueen could just see Ross' homecoming. Ross opening the door calling out happily, "I'm home." Rhonda greeting him with a furious, "There's a young man in the living room saying that he is here to measure you for a wedding. Whose and why the hell haven't you told me about it! Oh, and by the way, good to see you at last."

Hearing Hawkes scrambling back onto his feet, McQueen faced his recalcitrant soldier. In a cold voice, he snapped, "Listen up, Lieutenant. You will do everything these two gentlemen tell you to do, up to and including standing on your head if they want. Otherwise, you will sit out tomorrow's ceremony. Is that clear, Mister?"

Back at attention, Hawkes nodded. "Yes, sir!"

"I will be getting a report on your conduct, Lieutenant." McQueen turned to Ken. "He's all yours."

"Thank you."

McQueen left the room and, shaking his head at Hawkes' expression on seeing him, started for Vansen's rooms. He knocked on Vansen's door.

"Yes?" she called out.

"McQueen."

"Come in, sir."

Turning and peering over her shoulder into the full-length mirror stood a vision in royal blue. The strapless gown molded itself to her body from shoulders to upper thighs, and then flowed loosely down to the floor. He had always suspected that Vansen hid a pretty good figure under her uniform and now he could actually see it. His gaze traveled from her well-formed breasts, lifted and supported, to her slender waist and full hips. What amazed him about the actual dress besides the revealed figure was he couldn't see any sign of lingerie under it. No lines, no bumps, nothing to indicate that Vansen wore anything other than the dress. He knew that couldn't be the case.

Vansen saw his speculative look and ducked her head, hoping to hide her blush.

"I know a couple of young men who are seriously going to have to rethink the way they regard you, Shane." McQueen smiled gently.

"Sir," Vansen gestured to the dress. "I feel like... like..."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm positively indecent. Like I'm trying to be someone I'm not."

"As I've been told, they like to show off a person's assets in these ceremonies." He chuckled softly. "If I can wear this, surely you can wear that beautiful dress."

Vansen's eyes widened slightly as she truly saw him for the first time since he had entered. "Sir," she managed breathlessly.

"You'll have the men fighting over you at the reception, Shane. Just save me a dance, all right?"

She nodded.

Touching her loose hair gently where it reached the upper portion of the dress, McQueen said, "Now all we need is a stylist."

"I'm supposed to see one an hour before the ceremony."

"I'm looking forward to seeing the finished effect." Stepping back, McQueen continued. "Shane, I would appreciate it if you would check on Lysa for me. I've been told that I'm not to see her until dinner."

"Yes, sir."

"It's not an order, Shane."

"I know, sir. I'll go now."

"Thank you. I just want to know that she's doing all right."

As Vansen headed for the door, McQueen shook his head, watching her. "Damn, but how do they do that?"

"Trade secret, I'm afraid."

McQueen snapped around and found a woman slightly older than Vansen stepping out of the bathroom.

"Sorry. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, sir."

McQueen nodded.

The tailor walked over to her carry case and picked it up. "So do you like her dress?"

"Definitely."

"Good." The woman chuckled. "I was certainly pleased by her appearance." She started for the door.

"Are you leaving now?" He walked beside the tailor.

"Unfortunately, yes. I have two more fittings today."

As McQueen closed Vansen's door, he said, "I hope they go well."

"They rarely go as easily as this one. She was easy to do. Good bye."

"Good bye."

Strolling down to Damphousse's room, McQueen couldn't help wondering what Lysa's dress looked like. He sighed, not willing to risk angering Jalke or Lysa just for a look, but it would be hard to wait. Knocking on 'Phousse' door, he expected her to call out.

Instead, 'Phousse opened the door, still in her royal blue dress. She glanced at him, and then did a double take, then a much longer look. "Oh, my," she murmured. "You'll be beating them off with sticks, sir." She stepped aside, motioning for him to enter.

"I could say the same." As she closed the door, McQueen said, "That blue looks good on you. I suspect you'll have many offers for dances."

"I'm only really interested in one."

"May I reserve a dance?"

"Of course, sir." She watched him move across the room. "I hate to say this, but every woman who sees you tomorrow is going to be drooling."

McQueen smiled. "Same with you and the men." He looked around. "Is your tailor here?"

"No. She left a few minutes ago." 'Phousse gestured at a chair. "Please sit down."

McQueen waited until she sat in the other chair before sitting. "Did Paul get filled in last night on recent history?"

"I think we got him up to speed." Hands clasped in her lap, 'Phousse glanced down before asking, "Sir, what Patrick did... what I experienced... he said it's more powerful with..."

McQueen nodded curtly.

"Sir, who in their right mind wouldn't do it?"

"Would you throw away a real relationship for the experience?"

Slowly, 'Phousse shook her head, obviously thinking about Wang. "No."

"What you experienced is not the entirety of the relationship between vampire and Remal. Underlying the blood and sex is extreme trust. A lot like the one between the 5-8 and myself. I have to trust that you will follow my orders, even when you don't understand or know the reasoning behind those orders. And you trust me not to put you into situations without a way out."

'Phousse nodded. "I can see that. Silver has to trust her Remal, whoever they are, to be there when she needs them. And they have to trust that she will not drink them down too far."

McQueen nodded.

"It's got to be tough, especially in a war zone."

"Yes. You know what's she's capable of. That's without being at full strength. Can you imagine what she's like when she is?"

"Griffon when we first saw him."

McQueen raised an eyebrow.

"He scared us, deep down. I could see it in Shane's eyes too. She felt it. Something screamed at us to hide, run away. If he noticed us, we were dead." 'Phousse shivered, rubbing her arms. "The deadly sense of power that seemed to exist around him scared us."

Understanding, McQueen nodded again. He remembered that moment on the transport with Lysa; the moment a starving vampire stalked its prey. "I suspect that she's more adept at hiding that power than Griffin. After all, she's also a Marine. He is just Black Forces."

'Phousse suppressed a laugh. "Better not let him hear you say that."

"I'll tell him to his face."

She shook her head. "I'd rather keep you around, sir."

McQueen smiled. "Are you suggesting that I avoid a confrontation?"

"No, sir. Just thinking you should pick and choose the battles, like you would tell me."

"Yes. So I would also suggest that you work on the real relationship before you expand into other realms. Going into being a Remal with a solid footing, and support behind you will be far more beneficial to all in the long run."

"Yes, sir."

McQueen started to get up.

"Sir, I have a question." As he sat back down, she asked, "Do you remember when we rescued Silver? In the cave after we got you there?"

He nodded slowly.

"Shane and I were working on removing the stone pieces-"

"You were. She was keeping me grounded."

"Yes." She drew the word out. "You kissed my hand."

"I remember." He didn't look away from her. "I was running a fever."

"Why did you do it?"

He took a deep breath and slowly released it. "I knew that unlike other times, if I died, it would be among family. Among people who cared for me." A quirk of a smile and he added, "Besides, how could I resist kissing the hand of a beautiful woman kneeling over me, back lit by the firelight?" With that, he beat a hasty retreat.

West answered his door almost immediately. He was out of his tux jacket and gave McQueen a wry grin as he ushered his superior in. "Glad to see I'm not the only one in this."

"Too bad Kylen won't be here to see you in that." McQueen took the chair West offered. "So, how did your reunion with her go?" He watched West duck his head, cheeks reddening.

"There's nothing wrong with the physical relationship," West admitted quietly.

"I hear a but in there."

"She's still adjusting to being home again." West looked at McQueen, sighing. "I don't know if we'll be able to make it work. Especially since I'm not going to be here. But I made her promise that if she finds someone else, she had to call me. Not a letter. I promised that I would write often and call from time to time."

"Sounds like you've done all you can."

West shrugged. "It just doesn't feel like enough. After all we've been through, to feel as though it's still up in the air is tough."

"Yes." McQueen rose. "It'll work out, somehow. You held in there, kept the faith and you brought her back. If love survives between the pair of you, then it'll work out."

"I want to think so, sir. Did you know she recorded a new message for us? The day you and she left the 'Toga?"

McQueen shook his head. "I was kept drugged on the trip to Earth. I would have liked to talk to her, but I was unable to."

"She said pretty much the same thing. She said she believed in all of us."

"Then that's what you must remember. Hold onto it like you did before. Keep the faith."

"Thank you, sir."

Russell had already started undressing when McQueen arrived. "Looks good, sir."

"Thank you. And I imagine that you looked pretty good as well."

"Like you, sir." He hung the pants up carefully, making sure there were no extra creases. "Have you seen any of the girls?"

"Knockouts."

Russell grinned. "Good. I'm looking forward to the dancing."

"Have you talked to Patrick?"

"Yes." Instantly serious, Russell said, "He said that he wants to take it slow. But that he does like me already. When I'm not pushing him."

"Like Lysa already told you, he needs real friends. He's had a very hard life. When he tells you about it, you'll understand. But it is his tale to tell. Don't go prying."

"Never, sir. I wouldn't invade his privacy that way."

"Good. See you at lunch."

Knocking on Finch's door elicited no response so McQueen didn't bother with St. John's rooms. Returning to his own rooms, he stopped at Hawkes'. "Looks good, Hawkes."

Alone, Hawkes stood before the mirror, frowning. "Sir, this is so... so..."

"Revealing?" When Hawkes nodded, McQueen said, "It's supposed to be. That's the way the Family does things."

"But aren't you uncomfortable about being seen in that?"

"Not now. At first, yes, but I think we'll fit right in. I suspect that even most of the guests will be dressed like this."

Hawkes groaned.

"When you take that off, treat it like your dress uniform. Take care of it."

"Yes, sir."

His own clothes hung up carefully in the closet, McQueen took a hot shower, deciding that he would spend the afternoon in the gymnasium and the pool. The pictures he'd asked to be developed were to be delivered before dinner and he was looking forward to seeing the finished product.

Lunch turned out to be a reasonably quiet meal, with most of the doctors out until shortly before dinner. His kids joined him both in the gym and the pool.

For two hours he pushed himself and them to their limits in the gymnasium. He kept an eye on Wang, watching to see how well he could manage the workouts and was pleased by the results. Wang pushed hard enough to tire himself out, but was still able to walk to the pool changing rooms, using the cane occasionally.

After ten laps in the pool, McQueen allowed himself to be drawn into the water polo game that Cassie, already at the pool when they had arrived, had challenged them to.

Declaring the game a draw after it threatened to turn into a full body contact sport, McQueen left the pool and settled into a chaise chair to soak up some sun and dry off. Dark sunglasses over his eyes, he stretched out on his stomach, hands under his head.

He'd nearly dozed off when a sultry voice whispered in his ear, "You should remember the sunscreen, Marine."

Cool liquid spread out on his shoulders and he felt weight across his thighs even as the slender, strong hands started working the sunscreen in. "I thought you were sleeping, Lysa."

"With all that racket? You folks were making enough noise to raise the dead." Silver chuckled, pushing hard against his shoulders, kneading with her fingers. "Besides, how could I possibly turn down the chance to see you out here like this?" She rubbed the sunscreen onto his neck. "Now, I want you to just lie there and let me work on you."

As she worked down his back, he relaxed, enjoying the feel of her hands on his back. He had missed her touch to a degree he'd never thought possible. Interspersed throughout the massage he realized were deliberate caresses as his body responded to the touches. Her hands slipped under the waistband of his swimsuit, spreading the sunscreen, fingers kneading. He swallowed hard as she slid her hands up the legs of his black swimsuit, to brush lightly against what lay hidden. A groan escaped when she exhaled across his lower back, sending a shudder of desire through him, as she touched him again.

She turned around, her bare lower legs along his chest, sitting lightly on his lower back. Down his leg her hands traveled, working in more sunscreen, caressing lightly. She lifted his lower leg up so she could pay attention to his foot.

His breathing came hard and fast as she curled a finger around each toe, one by one, and mimicked what he so desperately wanted to do. 'How could toes be so damn erotic,' he thought, fingers digging into the pillow. When she repeated the same on the other leg and foot, he nearly sobbed with the effort it took to keep quiet.

"So much control, love. Would you keep it if the kids weren't here?" Her voice, low and throaty, washed over him.

"I... I think so," he managed hoarsely as she curled a finger around his little toe. He ground his hips against the chair. "Lysa, not here."

"Love, this is the only place in the universe I can have you right now. I desperately want to see your sapphire eyes darkened with passion and need. I want to make you mine here and now."

"Lysa," he groaned.

"Turn over."

He obeyed, partly because he wanted to see her. The dark blue bikini brought out her assets and he felt his breath catch at the instant need he felt. Pulling the sunglasses down, he looked up into her eyes, seeing the fire in her emerald eyes. "Lysa." All his want and desire went into her name.

Beside him in an instant, she kissed him, deeply, hungrily. He returned it; hand in her hair, hand pulling her close against the evidence of his desire. "Lysa, I want you so," he murmured, planting kisses along her jaw to her ear.

"And I you." Breathless in his ear, she added, "But we must not until after the ceremony."

"I'm getting to hate the ceremony," he moaned. "You had a plan?"

"How's this? I finish the job I've started. Here and now."

"But-" Her fingers brushed against his evident desire. Coherent thought fled and he pressed against her hand.

On her side, she lifted her leg so that she could pin his legs to the chair by the thighs and shins. Her hand moved over his upper body, touching, caressing, and adding fuel to the burning desire he already felt.

His breathing came hard and fast.

Kissing him, she slid her hand down to stroke his straining shaft through his swimsuit. Once, twice, three times she stroked him and still kissing him, pinned him down as the fourth sent him over the edge.

His breathing slowed and steadied. He became aware of the fact that she had resumed spreading the sunscreen on his body. As she paused to kiss him again, he opened his eyes and pulled her down against him.

"Damn, but I want to do that to you," he growled in her ear.

"You can practice all you like at the cabin, love."

"But you didn't get-"

She kissed him again. "Watching you was worth it. Seeing the passion, the need, the want, the desire; it was just as good as getting to myself."

"Now what?" he asked, wishing he could take her inside and make love to her.

"How about a swim?"

He groaned but agreed. The cool water would do him some good.

Pouring himself a scotch while waiting for dinner to be served, McQueen knew when Silver had entered the room. He glanced up and smiled, automatically reaching for another shot glass.

She shook her head. "Not yet. We need to meet someone."

"Now? It's nearly dinner."

"Come on."

He quickly downed his scotch and followed her out of the room. When he realized that they were headed for the front door, McQueen knew who it was. He opened the door and saw an aircar setting down.

Ross and a lovely woman nearly as tall as him stepped out a moment later.

"Glen! Rhonda!" McQueen headed down the stairs. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow morning."

"Well, this is your last night of freedom, Ty. How could I not come?" Ross punched McQueen in the arm.

"I wanted to meet the woman who snared you after what happened last time." Rhonda glanced past McQueen to meet Silver's eyes. "You are this woman?"

"Yes, ma'am." Silver smiled, "I am. I've waited a long time and been through a lot, but he's now mine."

"I can see you'll take care of him and keep him out of trouble."

Silver laughed. "Any trouble he's in, I'll be right there with him."

"Good. That's what he needs in a woman." Rhonda nodded. "I look forward to talking to you later tonight."

"We'll have time, I promise." Silver gestured toward the door. "Dinner will be served shortly. Would you care for a drink?"

While everyone took their seats at the dinner table, Charles remained standing. "I have an announcement, folks. I know all about the parties planned for tonight. I heartily endorse them. But, due to the circumstances, I expect certain persons to remember themselves and conduct themselves with proper discretion. Am I understood?" He met the eyes of his children who all nodded. "I do not want to interfere with your fun, but remember, not everyone is of the Family."

Ross patted his wife's arm when she looked confused. "They're clannish, dear," he whispered to her. "Prone to activities most of us frown on."

"Ty's marrying into this?"

"Dear, just watch him. You'll see."

With a dubious frown, Rhonda sat back.

Charles raised his wine glass. "T.C. McQueen, I welcome you once more into the Family. You will never be alone again."

McQueen's "Thank you," was lost in the group's "Welcome to the Family."

"Thank you," he said again. "I am honored."

Silver reached across the table to grip his hand firmly. "I am the one who is honored, Ty."

Charles sat down. "Now, let us eat."

Throughout dinner, Ross knew his wife, like himself, was watching McQueen like a hawk. The way McQueen interacted with the Silver clan amazed him. Relaxed, calm, confident, he saw the way his friend listened and jumped into a conversation with a new viewpoint, sticking by it despite the sometimes heavy arguments weighed against him. He remembered a dinner in a fancy restaurant with Amy and her parents that McQueen had dragged him to for support. McQueen had reacted to her parents' obvious discomfort with stiffness and fewer words than normal. Amy's parents had never fully accepted him and he had been all too aware of their half-hearted acceptance.

He tuned in to the conversation McQueen had engaged with Charles.

"-disagree, sir. We need more lighter ships, destroyers and battleships. More carriers would be nice, but they take too long to build. At least battleships can carry up to five fighter squadrons. The Chigs are out producing us in both fighters and heavy ships. Right, Glen?"

Nodding, Ross said, "Definitely. Our forces took a tremendous beating recently. The total loss of the 10th Fleet, two-thirds of the 12th Fleet, and three quarters of the 5th Fleet greatly reduces our contribution to the war effort." Ross shook his head. "Frankly, it was a miracle that any of us survived that battle."

"How are the Chigs doing it though? Where are they getting the resources?" asked Jake.

"They have to have more developed planets." Hawkes immediately turned his attention back to his food when everyone turned to stare at him.

"He's right." Shaking her head, Silver sighed. "He's right, damn it, and we have absolutely no damned idea where to look. Whereas they know exactly where to find ours."

McQueen frowned, remembering snatches of what had occurred when the Chig ambassador had been onboard the Saratoga. "Ask AeroTech."

"What?" Ross stared hard at McQueen. "What are you saying, McQueen?"

"You heard everything that was said in the room, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then you heard the Chig ambassador accusing both Mr. Wayne and AeroTech of already knowing about the Chigs and their warning to stay off Tellus and Vesta. That the Chigs had sent a message back through the probe AeroTech landed on Anvil years ago. They told AeroTech to stay away. Not to colonized certain worlds." Concentrating on remembering, McQueen frowned. "The Chig ambassador stood up was demanding that Mr. Wayne tell the truth. Mr. Wayne was standing before the clear wall, saying..." His frown deepened as he struggled to drag the memories forth. "That AeroTech knew nothing about any of it. Saying that the Chig was lying. That the Chigs were murdering butchers. The Chig was saying... at the same time, the Chig was saying that Earth was the murderer and that was all we had ever been. That was why we were warned away."

"What happened next, Ty?" Ross asked softly. "We've never known."

McQueen glanced at his friend with another frown. "I told them."

"Who?"

"The men on the transport. On the way to Earth."

"Sir, Kylen said that AeroTech men were always in the compartment with the colonel." West gave the rest of the squadron a concerned look.

"And they never told the rest of us what happened. Damned AeroTech." Ross slammed his hand on the table, rattling the tableware. "They're always there whenever the Chigs have some new piece of knowledge that they want. Otherwise they leave us out to dry."

"So you really don't know?" On seeing everyone's headshake, McQueen sat back in his chair, eyes closed. "Damn. I thought they were our people. But I was kept drugged. I didn't realize..." He sighed, bowing his head. After a few seconds, he raised his head and looked at Ross. "Wayne and the Chig were talking at the same time. Wayne was trying to shout the Chig down. When Wayne called the Chigs the murderers, the Chig ambassador slammed through the wall. It had a blade concealed in its armor. It grabbed Wayne and started stabbing him. I knew that General Frost had brought in a handgun. I was going to shoot the Chig. I was squeezing the trigger when the room exploded. The gun went off."

"Are you sure of that sequence, Ty?" asked Ross.

McQueen nodded. "Positive. I hadn't actually started the ignition process in the gun."

"The time interval between the gun shot and the explosion is so small that everyone assumed that the gun shot was the trigger. And the gas mixture in the room at the time would have produced the explosion." Ross sighed. "There was only one gun shot. So..."

"So the explosion was triggered another way." McQueen stared at his friend. "Why?"

"To keep the truth from being known." Charles exchanged looks with his wife. "We will start inquiries from here. But for now, this is enough serious talk. Tonight is a celebration. Treat it as such."

By the time dinner was over, the mood had lightened back up. Charles dismissed them all with "Enjoy yourselves. Buffets have been arranged. We will see you in the morning."

Immediately, Roger, Jake, Patrick and Peter took charge of McQueen and their sister. "This way, folks."

"What do you have planned?" Silver asked Roger.

"Nothing that Cassie can't be a part of. At least until her bedtime."

"That's when we'll have to worry." Silver laughed.

One of the conferences rooms had been converted to a movie theater. Comfortable chairs and cushions were scattered throughout the room. To one side a buffet of snack foods had been set up.

"An evening of movies, mostly marriage comedies." Roger steered Silver to a chair. "Sit down."

"And in honor of the fact that the two getting hitched are US Marines, we decided to start with a pair of scary movies you have to watch together. The first leaves you with the cold sweats and the second leaves you cheering for the good guys, even if they do have several incompetents amongst them." Peter allowed McQueen to sit beside his sister. "Just remember that the movies are nearly a century old. The others are even older."

Silver shook her head. "You had to pick those two, didn't you?"

"Yes."

The first movie left McQueen with a chill in his soul. While everyone made bathroom stops and refilled snack plates, he stepped outside to sit on a bench in the small garden. He prayed that no such creatures existed, that they were just the insane creation of an artist.

"It gets to you, doesn't it?" Patrick sat down beside McQueen and handed him a scotch.

"Yes. The Chigs are bad enough. Something like that... Acid for blood, mouths within mouths, the claws, the entire structure of the damned thing is enough to give one nightmares. And to think of even fighting it?" McQueen took a solid drink from the scotch. Alien scared the hell out of him.

"Don't worry. It isn't real. Nothing like it exists as far as we know." Patrick sipped his scotch. "We're quite used to such movies, growing up on them and all, but even that one still sends chills through us. The government would have fits if it saw the list of movies we have available. Many of them are critical of the late 20th Century and its military. As well as our government of the time."

"I know. I saw some of the titles. You have quite a collection in the library."

"Well, we know you won't turn us in. You'd be turning yourself in as well as your family."

"You know, the speed that you appear to accept me baffles me. You, Jake, your father, your mother. I mean, Lysa basically shows up saying, hi, here's the Invitro I'm making my consort and you just say, hey, great, welcome to the family. I have trouble believing it." McQueen took a smaller sip of his scotch. "I keep expecting to wake up."

Patrick laughed. "It is the way we are. We want the ones who are different, who don't fit in, that are outcasts. They are usually the ones looking for what we can give them, acceptance for who they are. We don't try to make them into people they are not. We are the ones who change." He leaned forward, picking up a pebble and tossing it into the garden pool. "When you look at me, what do you see?"

"A handsome man."

"Thank you. Now, what am I?"

"A vampire."

"And what is my race's original form?"

"A four footed creature."

"So, when we arrived here, we changed our shape to fit in. We do the changing. If we can't accept you for who you are, then how can we accept ourselves?" Patrick smiled sadly. "We've changed a great many times."

"Could you accept the Chigs?"

Patrick shook his head. "I don't think so. Their biochemistry is too strange. We're restricted to mostly warm-blooded types of creatures, though there has been the occasional reptilian race."

"The Chigs fear our dead."

"So I've heard. From what little I've been able to learn about them, I would guess it's because our dead do not break down immediately into their basic components. It would be very difficult for them to accept the fact we don't disintegrate on death."

McQueen nodded. "My thinking exactly."

Patrick rose. "Enough of this somber talk, my friend. We are celebrating your getting hitched with my sister. And I plan on getting you drunk enough that you do something irresponsible."

Shaking his head, McQueen said, "Don't you dare."

"Oooh, a dare. Don't you know by now, never to dare a Silver? Now, I have to." Laughing, Patrick held out a hand. "Come on. The party's inside. I promise that the next movie will leave you in a better mood. After all, the U.S. Marines are in it, ready to kick some serious alien butt."

McQueen couldn't help laughing. "All right." He accepted Patrick's hand.


	18. Blood and Souls, Chapter Eighteen

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 (slash in later chapters, can be skipped, warning will be issued with the chapter, violence, and lots of sex in later chapters. Between who and who you'll have to read to find out.

Warning: Sex.

Blood and Souls

Chapter Eighteen

With a groan, McQueen rolled over and slapped his alarm off. His eyes refused to focus immediately and he groaned again when he saw the time. 0600. Just like he had set it before dinner so he could take his early morning run before breakfast. The very idea of his feet pounding along the ground made his head hurt even more. Sitting up required a fair amount of careful maneuvering and he felt his stomach heave. Eyeing the distance between him and the bathroom, he doubted he'd make it the way he felt.

He made it, barely.

After praying to the porcelain god, McQueen crawled into the bathtub. The coolness soothed the pounding in his temples. He reluctantly decided to take a cool shower. He flipped the appropriate levers and let the water beat on his skin while he remained sprawled in the tub. When the alcohol daze appeared to have left somewhat, he risked sitting up. Succeeding at that, he climbed to his feet, wincing as his skull announced the fact it wanted to split in two.

"How much did I drink?" he muttered, carefully running a hand through his hair. Swishing a mouthful of water around in the hope it would take some of the foul taste away, he tried to recall how many drinks he had consumed. A scotch before dinner, two glasses of wine, the scotch Patrick had given him in the garden. He remembered someone refilling his glass during the second movie. Probably Patrick. "Five so far."

Ducking his head under the water, McQueen knew there had been another scotch, or was it bourbon, slipped to him before he watched the third movie, a black and white film, about a fellow named Blandings. Two or three times his glass had been refilled while Blandings bought a house and started renovating it. He remembered laughing, his head on Lysa's shoulder, while poor Mr. Blandings dealt with disaster after disaster, all of them combined to make a hilarious movie. He still thought it was quite funny and probably equally funny to homeowners now as then. The next movie had been in color and he remembered thinking it was a remake of the previous one. Someone had slipped him another couple of drinks during that one, he was reasonably sure.

"Ten at a minimum," he growled. "Damned. No wonder I feel awful."

Cassie going to bed flashed into his mind and he groaned, leaning against the wall as he remembered that the drinks during the last movie had been easily three times the size of the previous ones. The one Patrick had given him had been two ounces so he had easily consumed a bottle of scotch, if not one and a half. That was before the women had split off to have their own party. He knew he had at least four or five more drinks.

Two bottles of scotch. No wonder he felt like death warmed over. He had never had so much to drink in his life. Not even Chiggy von Richtofen or his divorce had been drowned like this.

He buried his head back under the water.

His nose twitched, as he smelled something he couldn't place immediately.

"Sir?"

McQueen nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Hawkes' voice. The sharp movement triggered another session of vomiting and he dropped to his hands and knees.

"Sir, are you all right?"

"Go away."

As he waited for his stomach and the world, to settle, McQueen stayed on all fours. The shower curtain was pushed aside as a naked Hawkes entered.

"You don't look too good, sir." Hawkes felt McQueen's forehead, easily avoiding the hand trying to stop him. "Slight temp. Can you stand up now?"

On shaking legs, McQueen did so with Hawkes' help. "What are you doing here?"

"You gave me express orders, sir. Don't you remember?"

Starting to shake his head, McQueen thought the better of it. "No."

"You told me that I was to get you up and moving, no matter what. That I was to make sure you ate breakfast, a real breakfast, and that you made it to the ceremony completely sober."

An image of talking to Hawkes surfaced and McQueen said, "I vaguely remember." He took a deep breath, pleased that he didn't want to start throwing up some more, and said, "What did you bring? It doesn't smell like coffee."

"It isn't. A girl named Jennie gave me this tea to make. Said it would help reduce the effects of the alcohol on your system."

"Let me finish and I'll be right out to drink some."

"Sir, I think you're going to need some help."

The pounding in his head convinced McQueen he just might need the help. "All right."

By the time he was out of the shower and drying off, McQueen thought he might live. Sudden movements still made him sick to his stomach and he hated the dry heaves that brought on. Slowly, carefully, he walked over to his bed and sat down, head in his hands.

"Sir, here's the tea."

Taking the cup, McQueen raised his head slowly and breathed in the tea's aroma. Cinnamon or nutmeg, he wasn't sure which, a hint of Earl Grey, honey, a green tea, and a smell he couldn't identify. He cautiously sipped it and felt the warmth spread out from his stomach which didn't rebel against the tea. Finishing the cup, he handed it back to Hawkes and started massaging the back of his head.

"Here, sir."

Another cup of tea in Hawkes' hand. "How much did you bring?"

"I made you a thermos full. I drank half of a thermos and now I'm hungry."

Even as he drank the second cup, McQueen felt the severe pounding in his head lessen. "This stuff works."

"I noticed." Hawkes grinned. "I think I drank an entire bottle of scotch last night."

McQueen grunted, not willing to admit to how much he thought he'd drunk. "I think it'll be awhile before I have another drink." He handed Hawkes the cup.

"Yes, sir." Pouring the next cup, Hawkes asked, "Sir, do you remember everything from last night?"

The slight apprehension in Hawkes' voice made McQueen jerk his head around and he cursed sharply as he ran for the bathroom. Wiping his mouth afterwards, he slumped against the tub, eyes closed. "I hate this."

"Here, sir." Hawkes took McQueen's hand and wrapped it around the cup. "It's a waste of the tea, but it's better than the dry heaves."

Opening his eyes, McQueen saw the still naked Hawkes kneeling beside him. "Get dressed, Hawkes." He started to sip the tea.

"Yes, sir."

McQueen couldn't help admiring the firm, young, supple body before him. Once Hawkes had finished dressing, McQueen struggled back to his feet. "How big is this thermos?"

"It's on the nightstand."

In the main room, McQueen looked at the thermos. "I think it's going to take at least another half a thermos, Hawkes."

"Yes, sir."

Once Hawkes had vacated the premises, McQueen sat on the bed, under the covers, drinking the tea. Leaning his head against the wall, he tried to remember last night.

The women had split off for their own party and somehow he doubted that they had gotten as drunk as the men. The scotch had flowed even freer, if possible. Then West and Hawkes had started arguing over which of them was the better flyer. When they had asked him, he had answered that neither of them were, that the real answer had been he was.

The argument had escalated with St. John and Russell joining in. He recalled running around the room in a mock dogfight with West, Hawkes, Russell and St. John. They climbed up on tables and chairs, jumping down on one another, until Russell said,

"We're not proving anything. We're still on the ground."

"The diving board," announced West triumphantly.

They had all trooped out to the swimming pool and taken turns jumping, twisting and corkscrewing in the air, into the water, clad in their shorts. Then he remembered Patrick sniggering out-loud and he'd grabbed Patrick's arm and declared that Patrick would show them how good he was at flying. He escorted Patrick to the top of the diving board. Before Patrick jumped, he had kissed him. He jumped into the pool after Patrick, a straight flight down. Getting out he had seen Ross and kissed him. West kissed Hawkes, Russell accepted a kiss from Patrick and it had quickly degenerated into a frenzy of hands and mouths as they swapped partners back and forth. At the end, they all collapsed on the grass. Nothing between his final kiss with Ross and waking.

How the hell had he gotten in bed? Racking his memory, McQueen could hear snickers and giggles. He groaned, realizing that the exhibition had been watched by the women. Oh, god, Ross was in deep trouble with Rhonda if she saw any of the last part. He prayed that Lysa had seen what was going to happen and had gotten her out of there. The thought of Lysa brought back a tantalizing memory of her voice telling him to sleep and the touch of her hand on his fevered brow. Had she brought him to bed? What a mess last night had been.

Finishing off the tea, McQueen swung his legs over the edge of the bed, setting the cup down and vowed, "I'm never attending another bachelor party with vampires." The pounding in his head intensified with the movement.

Someone knocked. "Yes?"

"Hawkes, sir."

"Come in."

Hawkes entered carrying a tray with a plate and a thermos.

On Hawkes' heels came Patrick. "You've looked better."

"Thank you," snarled McQueen, irritated by the obvious lack of hangover on Patrick's face.

Patrick smiled broadly. "A benefit of being a vampire. We metabolize alcohol three times faster. My hangover was three hours ago. But then I didn't go to bed." He sniffed the tea Hawkes handed McQueen. "Ah, an excellent choice. Give it an hour and you'll be just fine."

"Meaning I'll be capable of thinking without my head exploding." McQueen started drinking the tea, wanting to get rid of the raging headache.

With a chuckle, Patrick sank down into the chair at the foot of the bed. "Quite an impressive show last night."

"Don't remind me, please. I'd prefer to think of it as a bad dream."

"And forget all the fun?" Patrick laughed out loud at the sour look McQueen gave him. "It was a lot of fun, man, and you yourself started it."

"So you got your wish."

"Did I ever." Patrick chuckled again. "And I must say, that your boys are every bit as delicious as you."

Reaching for the thermos, McQueen saw the stark appraisal Hawkes gave Patrick. A jumble of images flashed through his mind. Hawkes' mouth yielding to his as he slid between the powerful legs, the firm body molding to his own. The feel of Ross' hands on him as he gave himself up to his friend. Trust and worship in West's eyes as he slowly lowered his head to taste the offered lips, the smooth young body dancing to the tune his fingers played. Desire flaring in Griffin's eyes as the vampire cupped his head for a kiss.

Snapping his head around to stare at Patrick, McQueen snapped, "Where the hell did Griffin come from?"

"He was late."

"Is he still here?"

"No, he left around five thirty. Lysa said he showed up while the women were watching the jumping contest. He accompanied them back to their party after we spent ourselves."

"What?"

Patrick shrugged. "Well, we weren't capable of anything at the time, and I'm sure the show sparked a few desires."

That was all he needed. Griffin and the women. It defied possibility.

"Don't worry about it. Lysa didn't even have a hangover this morning, so I'm sure she kept things from getting out of hand over there."

"Which we obviously didn't do."

"We weren't supposed to."

"Sir, I didn't hear any complaints from the women this morning." Hawkes held out the plate. Two bagel halves with cream cheese and a bran muffin split with butter were on it. "Try to eat something, sir."

"When did you see the women?"

"While I was getting some more tea. Silver suggested the bagels and muffin."

"Was the commodore's wife there?"

Hawkes nodded. "She was joking and laughing with the others."

Taking the plate, McQueen hoped that Ross wasn't in trouble. "Thank you." Before he took a bite of the muffin, he asked Patrick, "Just where did you spend the rest of the night?"

"With a friend. I left him sleeping." Patrick grinned, pleased with himself.

Glancing at the clock, McQueen saw it was nearly seven. "Only four hours to detoxify."

"That's part of why I came by. I thought I'd offer my services. The tea will help, but it won't clear the alcohol out of your system fast enough." When McQueen frowned, Patrick shook his head. "Stubborn, aren't you? All I'm suggesting is that you drink a bit, concentrate on how you normally feel, and you'll be much further along in your recovery by the time of the ceremony." He chuckled and gave McQueen an evil grin. "And after putting away three full bottles of the best aged scotch from my distillery, which by the way was damned near 90 proof, I really think you're going to need it."

"Damn." McQueen started eating, aware of Hawkes' awed expression. He pointed a finger at Hawkes. "Don't you tell anyone."

"No, sir. They wouldn't believe me."

"You kept pouring the damned stuff," McQueen pointed out to Patrick.

"And you kept drinking it."

Realizing he was not up to arguing and wouldn't be at this rate for many hours, McQueen leaned back with a sigh. "All right."

"Finish your food and tea then. It'll give the alcohol something to bond with afterward." Patrick stretched out and closed his eyes.

Hawkes stepped closer to the bed. "Sir, about the question I asked earlier..."

"Yes, I do."

Hawkes heaved a sigh, relief flashing across his face. "I didn't want to be the one to remind you."

"It's not necessary, Hawkes." His left shoulder itched and he absently reached back to scratch.

"Good, because I don't want to be the one to explain to Colonel Silver how it came to be."

A feeling of dread filled McQueen. What had he forgotten about?

"Careful how you scratch, though, sir. Jake did say you needed to be careful. You don't want to get an infection."

Now absolutely certain that he had forgotten something major, McQueen said, "Hawkes, give me about twenty minutes. If I'm not outside my door by then, come in and get me. All right?" The itching became nearly intolerable.

"Yes, sir."

Hawkes left.

Throwing the covers back, McQueen stood up, grateful his stomach didn't object. "All right, Patrick. What the hell was he talking about?"

Patrick grinned, but didn't open his eyes. "Haven't looked in a mirror lately, have you?"

"Patrick!"

"At least you didn't do it on your butt."

That confirmed his worst suspicions. "When?"

"After the girls left. West said it was too bad you'd have only memories of the night. Hawkes suggested a tattoo. When you protested the need to go into town, Jake said he could do it. Roger had appropriate dyes. We bandied about a few possibilities, but you had enough sense to shoot them down as giving information to the enemy in case of capture."

The phrase, 'property of Lysa Silver,' darted through his mind. McQueen made his way to the bathroom and the mirror. Looking over his shoulder into the mirror, he saw a two by three inch black outline. Inside the box in royal blue were the words, 'The Last Angry Angel. Property of USMC.'

He walked back to the bed, slumping down on it, head in his hands. "I managed fifteen years in the military without getting a damned tattoo. I didn't want a damned tattoo. And last night, I got one. Damn."

When Patrick laughed, McQueen glared at him, but as Patrick refused to open his eyes, it was ineffective. "You're no help."

"The Last Angry Angel was West's contribution. The property one was Ross'."

"I'm going to kill him. He knew I didn't want a tattoo."

"I doubt very much he'll remember it. He was snoring before Jake got started."

"What do I tell Lysa?"

"To be careful."

"That is not helpful."

Still grinning, Patrick got up. "You can worry about it after the ceremony. Now, if you are going to be in any fit state by then, you better have a drink now so you can be up and dressed by the time that gorgeous hunk of a Marine returns."

"Vampires. All they think about is sex."

"Don't forget blood." Patrick stood next to McQueen and slashed his wrist open. "Drink, my friend. You have other things to worry about right now. Sis will kill us both if you show up still hung over."

McQueen took four swallows and fell back onto the bed when Patrick pushed him over. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his body feeling normal, not affected by the alcohol. He felt Patrick's fingers brush across his cheek.

Nearly ten minutes later, McQueen opened eyes, feeling a thousand times better. No headache, no desire to throw up, and he could think clearly. Patrick was nowhere to be seen.

He dressed quickly in some jeans and a buttoned shirt. Hawkes was coming down the hallway as he stepped out of his room. Balancing the tray with the two thermoses and the empty plate, he shut the door.

"Feeling better, sir?"

"Yes, Hawkes. I'm ready for that real breakfast, I think."

Wrapping what little dignity remained after the previous night about him, McQueen entered the dining room. He set the tray down and made a bee-line for the coffee. Giving the room a quick look, he saw that Ross sat at a table beside his wife who was busy talking with Ruth. His friend grinned and McQueen felt some of his tension drain away. Things between Glen and Rhonda were at least all right.

Hawkes quickly loaded up a plate and took a seat at a table at the far end of the room.

Sipping his coffee, McQueen started to fill a plate with food. He saw Vansen walk in and knew by the way she refused to meet his eyes that she had seen the aftermath of the pool. She started dishing up her own food.

"Vansen, I-"

She looked up at him at the same time, saying, "Sir, I-"

McQueen shook his head slightly, amused. "You first."

"Sir, last night, I saw-"

"A bunch of extremely drunk men acting like fools. And I include myself in that assessment."

"Sir, I would never say-"

"Thank you, but it's the truth. We were very drunk. I want to apologize if anything offended you." McQueen poured himself an orange juice. "We got very carried away." He gestured toward another glass.

"I wanted to apologize for watching." She nodded.

McQueen snorted softly as he poured her a glass. "Shane, I knew some of you were watching and you didn't see me stopping, did you?"

Vansen shook her head as she took the glass.

"Then there's no reason to apologize. We... I got exceedingly drunk and acted like a damned fool kid." He chuckled. "When jumping into a cold swimming pool multiple times doesn't clear your head, that's pretty damn drunk."

"Well, sir, I'll admit you were amazingly drunk. You all were." Vansen laughed softly. "When Hawkes did that flip into the pool and belly-flopped, we figured that would clear his head. We started laughing when he came out, saying, 'Wow! Who's next?' Rhonda said it would serve you all right if you couldn't even see straight this morning."

"Speaking of Rhonda," McQueen hesitated.

"She saw the whole thing, sir."

"Oh, god. What did she say about Ross?"

"Nothing."

"Uh-oh."

"Not to worry, sir. Though you should probably talk to her."

"Not the way I wanted to start the day off." He sighed. "By the way, I didn't see Wang or 'Phousse by the fourth movie. Do you know what happened to them?"

"Paul was feeling tired and she decided to go with him. I didn't see them after that."

McQueen decided to drop the line of questioning. He had a pretty good idea what had happened between the two. "I'll see them later then."

"Good luck, sir. I'll steer the squad over by me." She headed for Hawkes' table.

"Thank you." He felt pity for the ribbing that the male members of the squad were going to be getting.

McQueen stepped over by his friend. "May I join you?"

"Sit down, Ty." Ross waved him to a seat. "We were just having an interesting conversation."

Waiting until he was sitting, McQueen asked, "About what?"

Ruth reached over and patted Rhonda's arm. "It turns out that Rhonda is the child of a lost Remal. Her mother is dead now, but, from what she told Rhonda, she is descended from Remal that for one reason or another were lost to the main clans. It happens from time to time. In this case, her mother's line passed information down so when Rhonda came here, she started to wonder and asked Lysa some pointed questions."

"After I had a few drinks." Rhonda shook her head. "It's still hard to believe. I listened to my mother, but didn't really believe her. I mean, vampires? Real honest living vampires?"

"She got a crash course on vampires last night." Ross grinned at his wife. "And she gives her blessing in case Silver needs my help."

"How could I not after what she taught me last night? I had never imagined..." Rhonda shook her head again. "At my age, two vampires were almost more than I could handle."

"Rhonda, dear," Ruth stood up. "We'll find a suitable vampire in your home area. Or at least some Remal so that you can catch up on your education. We take care of our own."

"And if I decide that I don't want a vampire?"

Smiling, Ruth laid her hand on Rhonda's shoulder. "It is your decision. But you should have all the facts before making such a decision. But no matter what you decide, we'll take care of you and your children."

"My children?"

"The odds are one of your children will be Remal. They can be tested quite easily and taught the necessary things in order to make an informed decision when they come of age." Ruth smiled gently. "Don't worry. We have no intention of taking your children away from you. Over the centuries, we have found it easier on all parties if the truth is known early on. They don't have to become fully functional Remal any more than you do."

"I can see that I have a lot to learn." Rhonda sighed. "But not today. Today I see Ty getting married."

"Well," drawled Ross, "technically he already is. I married them on the station."

"That's the legal one, yes, dear." Rhonda swatted her husband on the arm. "But today is the real one."

Ruth walked over to the buffet and poured herself a coffee.

"Was your arrival home as exciting as I think it was?" McQueen asked Ross.

"You mean walking in the door and finding out that a tailor was waiting for me?" Ross chuckled. "She read me the riot act. Until I reached the part about it being your wedding and that she was invited."

"And if you had bothered to tell me about it last time you called, I could have had something suitable ready."

Ruth returned to stand beside Rhonda.

"Love, you didn't see the fitting yesterday. I doubt you would have found anything suitable even with a month's preparation."

"After you've eaten, Rhonda, we'll see if we can find something suitable." Ruth smiled widely. "Your husband is quite correct. You have no idea what is suitable for this ceremony."

"I think the dress I brought is fine."

"Love, as lovely as that dress would be at a normal wedding, it is too conservative for this."

"Too conservative?" Rhonda's eyebrows rose.

"Oh, yes. Not nearly enough cleavage and it sure as hell doesn't show off your figure the way it should."

"It doesn't? You said it was fine the last time I wore it."

"For the society we're used to, yes. For here, no. You'll understand as you help Lysa and the other women get dressed." Ross grinned. "In fact, I'm looking forward to seeing what they can find for you. Then I want to get something like it for when I come home on leave."

Even as Rhonda blushed, Ruth said, "She may keep whatever we find. We have rooms full of clothing that we keep just for such occasions. We won't miss one or two dresses."

"I'd like to get a private viewing before we start dressing for the ceremony." Ross kept his eyes on Rhonda who nodded. "Good. Then I better go find Charles and read over the ceremony a few times before then."

Rhonda swallowed hard as Ross left "He's been amazingly happy since he came home. Usually it takes him a day or two to finish griping about things. This time, he's been talking up a storm when he's not... Any way, he's talked a lot about you, Ty, and Lysa. He's proud of you both and exceedingly proud to be involved in your wedding."

Ruth went to talk to Patrick by the buffet.

"I'm happy to have him involved, Rhonda. And thank you for coming. If I had known that he hadn't told you, I would have insisted."

"Ty, I know he loves you. I want you to know I'm not jealous. I've known for a long time that he loved you. It was there in his eyes whenever he talked about you. He told me that you and he finally... well, frankly, I figured that it happened many years ago. I'm ashamed that I thought-"

"Rhonda, until several months ago, I didn't realize how long he had been in love with me. I knew he cared, but I thought only as a friend. I cherish that friendship even more now. Last night was only the third time that we consummated that love. I didn't expect you to be watching. No matter what happens, Rhonda, just remember who he comes home to."

She nodded. "I know. Last night I saw how the two of you loved each other. Right beside me was Lysa and she was chuckling. I asked her why and she said, 'They've been besotted for years. But neither one would risk rejection. So they settled for making each other miserable instead of taking what happiness they could from one another. Glen loves you with all his heart and soul, Rhonda, never doubt that. But they fill a hole in each other's souls that no one else can, not even I.' She kissed me and said, 'Treasure him, hold him tight every time he comes home. Give him the love that sustains him out there in the darkness. He'll need it in the times to come. And I swear we will do everything in our power to make sure he survives to come home at the end.' I started crying."

McQueen felt tears in his eyes and blinked rapidly.

"She held me and told me that Glen talked about me out there. That I was lucky to have a man who loves me as deeply as he does. That... sex between the two of you did not diminish his love for me one bit."

"It doesn't, Rhonda."

She smiled at him. "It's going to take a little time, but I think I'll accept it. It is hard to hear that your love is having an affair on the side with his best friend."

McQueen laughed. "If it helps any, Rhonda, once I realized the truth, I seduced him. He protested, but I won in the end."

"Ever the soldier."

"Yes."

"The only thing I ask, Ty, is that you take care of him. I want him home in one piece and alive. He is my love."

"Everything in my power, Rhonda. I want him to come home to you the same way."

"Good." She rose. "I'll see you later, Ty."

Rhonda walked away with Ruth.

"Well, that went a lot better than I expected," McQueen muttered. His gaze was riveted by the sight of Wang and 'Phousse entering. He knew immediately his guess about their activities of the night was right. They couldn't take their eyes off each other, barely looking away to get their food.

"Looks like consummated love." Patrick took the chair Ross had vacated.

"They have to be able to fight together."

"So do you and Lysa. And I expect there will be some spectacular ones from time to time."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. Don't worry. They'll work it out. Just like you and Lysa will. Just remember that it's going to be a while before he actually gets to fight. It'll give her added incentive in the fighting for now."

McQueen nodded, realizing he had been thinking of Wang fighting alongside 'Phousse now instead of later. "A point to you."

"Good. I get few enough off you."

"You don't stay objective enough."

Patrick grunted. "And you do? I've seen you talking about the military, the war, invitro rights, and half a dozen topics. Don't tell me objectiveness is the key."

"When I know what I'm talking about, yes. You have a habit of not doing your research before you jump into the argument. Nor do you finish thinking through your argument."

"Great," Patrick said dryly.

McQueen grinned. "Don't worry. I don't hold it against you."

"Thanks, I think." Patrick leaned back in the chair. "I have been asked to remind you that you should be dressed by ten."

"But the ceremony isn't until eleven."

"Hey, I'm not arguing with my mother. You want to, go right ahead. But after last night..."

Shaking his head, McQueen sighed. "No. I made a big enough fool of myself."

"A thoroughly delectable one at that."

"Patrick."

"Lighten up, T.C. I know last night was probably the last time. But that doesn't mean I won't tease you."

"All right." Taking a sip of his cooled coffee, McQueen asked, "So where is this ceremony taking place?"

"You remember the gazebo out by the lake?"

"Yes. That's a good spot." McQueen nodded.

"That's what Lysa thought. She's always wanted to have her consort ceremony there at this time of year." Patrick smiled thoughtfully. "Funny. We'd all given up hope that she'd ever pick a formal consort. She made an excellent choice."

"A great many people wouldn't agree with that statement."

Anger ran through Patrick's words. "Don't you dare let small minded people rule your life. The day will come when invitros will be recognized for the people they are. It may not be in our lifetimes, but it will happen. Just remember it took a century from the time that they were declared free men that the African-American got the rights they deserved. And another forty before they were fully invested with those rights."

"A long road. I suspect that Hawkes and I will be at the forefront of the battle. I just don't want to be another Martin Luther King Jr."

"Martyrs are great for causes, lousy for the families." Patrick glanced out the window. "It's going to be a lovely day for the ceremony and a hike."

Grateful for the change in subject, McQueen nodded. "I'm glad it's here. The waiting was getting to me."

"I bet. I remember how Peter was."

"What about you and Jake? Any prospects?"

"No. Haven't found the right mate." Patrick shrugged. "I will eventually."

"Before you're too old to have children?"

"With any luck. But even so, precautions have been taken. My genes won't be lost. Same with Jake. After all, accidents do happen."

"Yes." McQueen frowned at his now cold coffee and set it aside. "About the ceremony. Is there anything I need to do to prepare?"

"No. You just need to answer the questions put to you. Yes or no. Feel free to elaborate if you want to."

"That's what Lysa said."

"It's really that simple. Both sides answer the questions put to them."

"What about the vows?'

"That's what you'll be saying yes or no to."

"I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Grinning, Patrick grabbed both of their cups. "You'll have a long wait." He headed for the coffee maker.

McQueen watched him with a rueful grin. He accepted his hot coffee cup gladly. "Do you think anyone will object to the ceremony?"

"No one in their right mind." Patrick grinned. "Don't worry, T.C. Everything will be just fine. Now, you might want to get some relaxing done before you get dressed. You won't have much time to before the ceremony and during the reception." With an mischievous glint in his eyes, he said, "And I know you won't get any once you leave the reception. You'll have to get back to the war to get some rest."

"And that is supposed to worry me?"

"You've never seen Lysa at a hundred percent. She's there now. Three whole days, alone with her. I pity you and I pray you can keep up." Laughing, Patrick walked away.

Finishing his coffee, McQueen sat looking out the window. He rose, gave his kids a quick look and headed for his rooms. He had an hour and a half to kill, perhaps with a good book.

In the pre-ceremony gathering, McQueen mingled, being introduced as necessary by Charles or one of Lysa's brothers. Some of the clothing, or nearly lack thereof, the men and women wore made even his cheeks redden. Both Charles and Ruth were stunning in their body revealing clothes, making it clear that they were in fantastic shape. The dress Ruth had found Rhonda was definitely conservative compared to the majority of the crowd, yet she was exquisitely on display.

Some of the guests surprised him. Gregory had returned with his wife, Faith.

She greeted him with a smile. "So you're the handsome devil that finally caught the girl."

McQueen nodded, unsure how to take the statement exactly.

"Lysa's been a favorite of mine for years." Faith patted his arm. "She's been searching a long time for you."

"So have I it seems."

"Good, my child."

The odd tone in her voice made him glance at her sharply, but she had already turned to smile at Jake.

His next surprise came in the form of Major General MacIntyre. Dressed appropriately for the occasion, the general clearly belonged to the Family. Two silver stars flashed on his tuxedo's collar.

"You're certainly looking fit, Colonel."

"Thank you, sir."

"I'm looking forward to talking to you on the way back to the 5th Fleet."

"Sir?"

"Haven't you been notified? I'm taking replacement destroyers and battleships out to the 5th Fleet and your squadron is hitching a ride."

"Thank you, sir."

"No sense in making you travel by transport when I'm already headed out that way myself. Besides, I need to talk to you and Lysa."

"Yes, sir."

An older brunette took hold of MacIntyre's arm. "Love, you can't hog him all to yourself. You promised no military talk today. The entire day."

Smiling at her and patting her hand, MacIntyre said, "I know, dear. McQueen, this is Jill, my wife. Every so often she gets completely fed up with military affairs and absolutely forbids me to talk about it for a day. Considering she's a Lt. Colonel in her own right, I figure it's best to obey."

"Yes, sir. Pleased to meet you, ma'am." McQueen shook her hand.

"And you, McQueen. We've heard a lot about you and the 5-8 over the past two years. Lysa's lucky to have found you. She deserves someone with your abilities and courage."

"Thank you, ma'am. And I consider myself lucky to have been found by her. I find it hard sometimes to believe it's real."

"It's real, McQueen. Very real."

"Yes, ma'am."

Charles tapped McQueen on the arm. "Time to move out to the gazebo."

"Sir, ma'am." McQueen gave MacIntyre and Jill a nod of farewell and followed Charles.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir," answered McQueen promptly.

Charles gave McQueen a piercing look. "Nervous?"

"I'm going to stand before a bunch of people I don't know and answer questions that will determine my future happiness. What's to be nervous about? Hell, yes, I'm nervous."

Laughing, Charles clapped McQueen on the shoulder. "You'll do just fine. Just answer truthfully and do not be afraid to take time to consider the questions. A fast and quick answer is not always the best one. You need to understand what you're getting into, son."

"I just wish I knew what I was answering."

"So does everyone in your position." Charles opened the door leading to the lake path. As he and McQueen headed down the path, guests started following. "The questions are not known until the night before."

"What?"

"The High Priest chooses the questions and an aide brings them the night before the ceremony. But the general tone of the questions is a lot like the marriage vows you've already taken once."

McQueen nodded. "Is there a problem with Glen performing the ceremony?'

Chuckling, Charles said, "Not in the least. Unlike human marriage ceremonies, we do not believe we need a sanctified priest to administer the vows. Hakur and Jalke will oversee the vows, and, if the vows are given with a false heart, they will stop the proceedings." Turning serious, Charles stopped McQueen and gripped him firmly by the shoulders. "Understand this, my son. The vows _are_ soul binding. You are swearing vows before the Master Engineer, Hakur and Jalke who are to us his direct servants. _They_ will judge you in the end as to how you have kept these vows. This is not something to do lightly. There must be no serious reservations in your heart or soul. Can you do this?"

McQueen nodded slowly. "Yes, sir. I can." He met Charles' gaze steadily.

"Good. I knew you were made of the right stuff." Charles resumed walking.

Glancing at Charles, McQueen asked, "Out of curiosity, am I allowed to reject a vow?"

"Yes. But you will be asked why. If your answer is deemed worthy, then the ceremony will continue. You may also state a reservation, after you've answered a question."

"Hakur and Jalke will judge either?'

"Yes."

"And how would Glen know where to continue or not?"

"Don't forget that Hakur and Jalke are active participants in this world. They will let him know if he is to stop the ceremony." Charles shook his head briefly. "I seriously doubt you'll have to worry about it."

The gazebo came into view as they rounded a last corner around a hedge. Every available inch of the trellis bloomed with flowers of so many types he only recognized a handful: roses, ivy, purple violets, blue hyacinth, and both lavender and white heather. Large enough to house a small chamber orchestra and audience, the interior now held a small dias on the lake side and a hundred chairs. Passing under the arch, McQueen did a double take.

"Are those wheat sheaves?"

"Yes. All the flowers have been chosen carefully for their symbology." Charles reached over and touched a stem that had a pyramid of tightly gathered, small blue flowers on the upper twelve inches. "This is the veronica plant. It represents fidelity. The purple violet means faithfulness. It would probably be the flower of the Marine Corps if they used flowers." He smiled at McQueen. "All our hopes and good wishes are represented here. Courage, bravery, fidelity, faithfulness, strength, challenge, admiration, protection, virtue, devotion, and many, many examples of love."

"Good God, Ty! Here I thought no one could look better than I do." Grinning, Ross stepped into the gazebo from the lake side. "We're almost two birds of a feather." A black tuxedo with the same lacy ivory shirt showed off Ross' body. The main difference lay in the cummerbund; his was blood red. "This is certainly going to be the wedding to remember."

"Wait until you see the others. The girls will knock your socks off."

"Given what I've seen of the women so far, I believe it. Did you see Rhonda?"

"Yes. Took me a second to recognize her."

Ross chuckled ruefully. "I'll admit when I saw her in that dress, I was ready to get her out of it. Damn the ceremony." His eyes twinkled with suppressed lust.

"I'm glad you didn't." McQueen glanced around. "So, Charles, how does this go?"

"You and Glen will stand here." Charles walked over to the dias. "Glen, you have the book?"

"Yes. It's on the railing there." Ross pointed to a section of railing by the dias. "Figured that way I wouldn't drop it."

Charles nodded. "Ok. Glen, your spot is here where I am standing." He stood at the back of the dias, centered in the opening toward the lake. He pointed to his left. "T.C., you stand there. Lysa, when she comes, will be to your left. She will be escorted by Cassie and myself. Behind her will come the rest of the bridal party. Half will stand behind Lysa, the others behind you. While Lysa is coming in, the audience will perform a song of supplication. You don't have to join in. Glen will begin the ceremony. He will alternate between the two of you. When the questions have been answered, then the consort rings shall be brought forward. You may kiss Lysa. There will be a song of rejoicing, during which you may go leave for the reception inside. After you've endured an hour at the reception, it is permissible to leave." Charles grinned. "And we will see you on your return."

While they had been speaking, guests had started to fill the seats.

Ross said, "Looks like it won't be long now."

Glancing at his timepiece, Charles laughed. "Five minutes exactly. Just enough time to brief everyone once more."

As Charles left the gazebo, McQueen looked out at the lake. "What are your plans after this? Are you staying here or going home or somewhere else?"

"Rhonda's parents are watching the kids, so I think I'll take up Charles' offer for the night. Then maybe go a few places we've been meaning to go, but haven't been able to."

By the time Jake stepped up and said quietly, "Time," McQueen had talked himself into a reasonably calm state of mind.

Ross picked up the book and took his place, opening the book to the marked page.

The audience rose as a single soprano started singing in a language McQueen didn't recognize as from on Earth. Other voices joined, cascading over one another in what he realized was a madrigal. As the voices rose and fell, he felt the emotion behind the words; supplication, hope, desire.

He half turned to glance over the audience and saw Cassie walking down the aisle, a bouquet of roses in her hands. Spotting Charles, McQueen shifted his gaze to the figure beside him. His breath caught in his throat. Her hair curled around her throat and ears, framing her face. The single emerald pendant nestled in the hollow of her throat drew his gaze downward. The ivory dress, clinging to her body, shimmered as Lysa walked gracefully. Like the dresses he had seen on Vansen and 'Phousse, her strapless dress lifted, shaped and supported, but it revealed far too much he thought at first. Then as he realized how it enticed him, made him want to grab her, hold her tight and make love to her right there, despite all the people, he knew it was doing exactly what Ruth had intended for it to do to him. With a mental wrench, McQueen pulled his gaze away from Lysa to look beyond her.

Walking in pairs were Vansen and Hawkes carrying pillows with something sparkling on them, Damphousse and Wang, Finch and West, Russell and St. John, all beautifully arrayed.

Cassie stopped beside him and he heard her laugh softly. "Close your mouth, Ty," she whispered.

Snapping his jaw shut, McQueen watched Lysa, seeing the cat-like grace she disguised so often.

She came to a stop on the other side of Cassie, giving him a pleased smile. "Hi, Ty."

His "Hi," came out strangled.

The audience fell silent.

"Hakur and Jalke, we call upon you to witness this event," Ross called out. He paused, then looked out at the audience. "Be seated please." As the audience obeyed and Cassie walked to a spot in front beside her uncles, he continued. "Today we have gathered to witness a glorious event. Two people have decided to join together as consorts. Lysa Gwen Silver and Tyrus Cassius McQueen."

A smile curved Ross' lips as he said, "Two people who have at times exasperated us, angered us, scared us, and yet we love them dearly for who they are. So, who sponsors Lysa Gwen Silver as a consort?"

"We do." Charles and Ruth stood.

"Who stands for her family?"

"We do." Cassie and her uncles rose to join Charles and Ruth.

"Who sponsors Tyrus Cassius McQueen as a consort?"

"We do." Gregory and his wife rose, standing hand in hand. Looking at them, McQueen saw their outlines blur until he saw two furred forms who nodded at him. He blinked and saw Gregory and Faith again.

"Who stands for his family?"

"We do." To McQueen's surprise, General MacIntyre and Jill rose.

"Sponsors and family, please be seated." Ross partially closed the book he was reading from, his fingers marking the place. "Before we continue, does anyone present question the rightness of this pairing?"

No one rose.

"The chance shall be given only once more. Anyone who objects to this union, step forth and defend it with your blood."

No one rose to the challenge.

"So be it. Only Hakur, Jalke and the two people standing before me may now stop these proceedings." Ross nodded once, opening the book again. "Lysa, do you love this man?"

"Yes."

"Tyrus, do you love this woman?"

"Yes."

"Lysa, are you willing to retire from the military, give it up completely, in order to have Tyrus?"

McQueen could see her thoughts racing behind her eyes.

Even as she nodded, her "Yes," was firm and full of conviction.

"Tyrus, if she retired, would you still love her?"

"Yes." He added after a second to think, "For it speaks of the depth of her love for me. I could not do less."

Ross nodded. "Lysa, are you prepared to fight side by side with Tyrus to the end of this conflict?"

"Yes. For as long as it takes and beyond."

"Tyrus, are you ready to die for Lysa, here and now?"

Swallowing once, McQueen slowly nodded. "Yes. If it were demanded of me."

"Lysa, are you willing to sell your body and soul for Tyrus' life?"

She straightened further, head high. "Yes. Whatever it takes to keep him alive."

"Tyrus, can you live with the consequences of such an action on Lysa's part?"

He sighed heavily and said, "Yes." Almost reluctantly, he added, knowing he had to be brutally honest, "I would hope that I wouldn't hate her for it and would beg her pardon now if for a time I did so. I would remember why eventually." He saw her nod slightly to him.

"Lysa, can you live with the consequences of his selling his body and soul for you?"

It took her a second to answer. "Yes. I know I would eventually fight my way through the guilt and self hatred to hold my hand out again to him. And I would also ask his forgiveness now if such comes to pass."

He gave her a slight nod and saw her smile briefly.

"Tyrus, do you know and understand the consequences of being a Vrylosian's consort?"

McQueen met and caught Lysa's eyes. "Yes."

"Lysa, are you fully aware of the responsibilities in being a Vrylosian consort?"

"Yes."

"Tyrus, do you agree to becoming Lysa's consort?"

"Yes."

"Lysa, are you prepared to join soul to soul with Tyrus?"

"Yes."

"Tyrus, are you prepared to join soul to soul with Lysa?"

"Yes."

"As the answers given by you both have satisfied Hakur and Jalke, we shall finish this ceremony. Bearers, come forward." Ross gestured to Vansen and Hawkes.

Vansen came to stand beside McQueen while Hawkes did the same with Silver. The cushion each carried was placed on the ground before the two about to be joined.

"Kneel, Lysa, Tyrus."

Sinking to his knees on the cushion, McQueen glanced over at Lysa. Solemn and eyes bright with unshed tears, she knelt, hands clasped before her, looking at him.

"Lift your left hands."

Watching as Lysa brought her left hand up beside her face, McQueen did the same.

"These rings shall serve as visual tokens of what you are about to undertake."

A second ring slid down his finger to nestle against the one he had worn since Lysa had placed it on his finger. He saw Hawkes gently placing a ring on Lysa's finger.

"Let these circlets bind you one to another. Until death shall release you from your vows."

A weight settled on his head and he had an instant to see a silver circlet being placed on Lysa's head by Hawkes before the world spun crazily. He closed his eyes, waiting for it to stop, wondering what was happening.

Warmth enveloped him and he knew it was Lysa's love. Following the love with his mind, he felt her joy, her fears of losing him, and her determination to keep him by her side. He tried to project his love and joy to her.

The link between them dissolved abruptly and he nearly cried out at the loss of her emotions. Opening his eyes, he saw Lysa smiling radiantly at him.

"It is done. Rise, Lysa and Tyrus. Rise as consorts."

Remembering what Charles had said, McQueen held out his hand. She took it and he rose with her, pulling her close. He kissed her, trying to tell her his devotion, love, and desire with it. Dimly he grew aware of the fact that the audience was singing once more, this time joyously. When forced to come up for air, he met her delighted grin with one of his own, realizing that he had pressed her against him and her hands were firmly on his shoulders.

"Ready to go inside?" he asked intently.

"Definitely."

With a laugh, McQueen released his hold and felt her own loosen. They strode down the aisle, hand in hand. He looked over at her and said, "Race you."

The impish look she gave him sent his heart racing. "You're on. Go."

With a growl of frustration, he darted after her. The dress didn't hamper her at all he saw and he certainly enjoyed the view. He stayed behind her until they had almost reached the house. A burst of speed and he had drawn up even with her. Their hands hit the door simultaneously.

Silver laughed. "A tie, love."

Opening the door, he asked, "Do I have to wait until we reach the cabin?"

"No, but you do have to wait at least an hour. Sorry, love, but we just have to wait."

Over his shoulder, McQueen saw the crowd approaching and sighed. "It's going to be one of the longest hours of my life."

"Be sure to eat something. And we both have dances to share."

"Yes."

By the time the hour finished, McQueen felt like one of Rosalyn's strings drawn overly tight. He knew where Lysa was all the time and who she was with, adding to his tension. A surprise of the hour was just how well Vansen danced. She floated in his arms and seemed startled when he praised her dancing. She faltered for just a second before recovering. When he watched her afterwards, he was struck by the fact that for a change Vansen didn't strike him as a Marine. Instead she appeared as a beautiful woman enjoying herself, something that Damphousse did far more naturally and often.

Throughout the hour, his gaze traveled to Lysa wherever she was. His hunger for her grew as he felt her own hunger for him.

With the cake cut and parceled out to the bridal party, Charles nodded toward the door leading further into the house. Gratefully, McQueen smiled and made a beeline for Lysa, talking with Ross and Rhonda.

Without looking over at him, Silver nodded to them both and held out her hand to him. "Let's go," she said as he took it.

"See you in three days, Glen."

"Enjoy yourselves."

In the hall, McQueen asked, "Where?"

"This way."

She led him to an area he hadn't been into before. Through a door and he knew he was in her room. Even as the door shut behind him, he started shrugging out of the tuxedo jacket and kicking off his shoes. "Why haven't you let me in here before?"

"Couldn't risk having you here when I came in. You can look all you like, later." She reached behind her back and the dress started to slide down her body.

"It's not fair," he groaned, undoing the shirt buttons. "You have only the one."

Clad only in the emerald necklace, she stepped out of the dress, leaving it piled on the floor, and ran her hands up his thighs to his chest. "Let me take care of that." Steering him toward the bed, she kissed the portion of his chest he had managed to uncover.

He ran his hand through her hair, breathing in the strawberry smell. "Lysa, I want you so badly. I don't want to wait."

"Just a little longer, Ty, just a little longer." She pushed him down onto the bed, moaning as he started sucking on her breast. Sitting on his thighs, feeling his hardness through the fabric, she caressed his shoulders and neck before bringing her hands around to make him lie down.

As she started to undo the buttons, he growled, "Just tear the damn thing!"

"Now, now, for what it cost, you might as well get some milage out of it. There'll be other weddings to wear it to."

He groaned at the thought and brought his hands up to knead and tease her nipples. The way she moaned and pressed into his hands as she continued to work on the shirt made him achingly aware of how much he wanted her. "Lysa, I don't care about the clothes!"

She chuckled wickedly, pulling his shirt free of pants and cummerbund. "I can see that." The cummerbund undone, she tossed it aside. Her hands splayed on his smooth hard abdomen, she leaned over to lick his nipples before kissing her way down to where his belly button would have been. She stroked with her hands up and down his sides, thumbs rubbing over his nipples.

Impatient, wanting to repay her for the time at the pool, he tried to roll her onto her back, but found he couldn't budge her.

"Not yet, love. Just a couple more minutes, I promise." Her hands unfastened his pants, sliding the fabric down his thighs and over his knees as she rose onto her knees.

He kicked the pants off, grateful that the underwear had been part of the pants. As she slid her hands under him to knead his buttocks, he reached around her and undid the wrists of his shirt. He ran his hands down her back and pulled her up so he could kiss her. She settled on him so he couldn't enter her and he growled in frustration.

"Ty, listen to me. I want you as hard and fast as you can be." She nibbled his neck, making him arch under her, his hands desperately trying to position her. Bracketing his head so she could look him in the eyes, she said, "I need you to understand this. You _can't_ hurt me, Ty. No matter how hard and fast you are, you _won't_ hurt me."

"Got it. Now, please!"

Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, she slid up enough to free him and moved back down.

His hands clenched convulsively, his back arched, and he moaned as she slammed the length of him into her waiting dampness. Repeatedly she did it, the necklace swinging back and forth between them, until he grabbed her by the waist and rolled over on top of her. Harder then he had ever dared to, he thrust into her and was rewarded by her legs wrapping around his waist. He set a furious pace, her hands stroking near his neck navel, reveling in the way she matched his every thrust, feeling her pleasure increase second by second.

She cried out, her body shaking under him, and he sank into the depths of her climax, spiraling out with her. He returned to find himself on his elbows over her, breathing hard, face buried in her shoulder, her hands stroking his neck. "What the... hell... was that?" he panted.

"The bond between us. It's at its strongest right now. By tomorrow night, it'll be reduced to where we feel most comfortable with it."

"Will I always be so... affected by it when we make love?" He lifted his head to look at her.

"No."

"Good." He kissed her, enjoying the feel of her hands on his shoulders under the shirt. "Now, it's your turn to just lie there." Moving down between her parted thighs, he used his tongue, tasting their mingled juices, shrugging out of the shirt. ( socks..what about his socks?)As she became more aroused, he felt the increase in her pleasure and understood that he couldn't hurt her for he'd know the instant anything caused the least pain. Slipping fingers inside her, he fought the intensity of the bond, determined to bring her over without dragging him along. He sucked and gently nibbled her clit as her hands grasped his head, fingers working through his sweat-dampened hair. She moaned his name over and over.

Her climax nearly sucked him out with her. He knelt, forehead resting on her thigh, keeping his fingers moving, wanting to send her one more time before he reentered her.

"I've wanted you so damn much, Ty."

"I've been the same way." He rubbed his thumb over her clit and smiled as she pressed up into his hand. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, yes, yes." She reached down and tugged on his short hair. "I need a kiss."

"I can do that." He kissed his way up her body, pausing to lick and tongue her belly button and to pay lavish attention to each breast, leaving them hard and erect.

The desperate edge eased from their kiss and they explored each other's mouth by turns, sucking and nibbling lips and tongues. As her hands stroked both his hard cock and his navel, he shuddered from the intensity of the sensations echoing from her. He ran his hands up her body, kneading her breasts.

Despite how good it felt to have her stroking him, he straddled her hips and gently took her hands, pulling them up to her head. "I'm going to love you, Lysa. Just lie there and enjoy."

"As if I'd do anything else?" She stretched then lazily caressed his cheek."I'm all yours."

With his hands and mouth, he explored her body, reacquainting himself. It didn't take long for her to writhe under him, bucking hard as he slipped a few fingers into her wet center. Her orgasm rocked through them both, leaving him trembling beside her with the strength of it.

He rolled onto his back when she pushed him over. "Are you feeling this too?"

"Most definitely."

Her tongue licked his throat and he knew she intended to drink from him this timeBut she doesn't does she?. "Do we have to leave?"

"If we stay, we'll have interruptions." She rubbed his navel lightly.

Fists clenching in the bed covers, he moaned as fire seared through his nerves. "All right, bad idea. We better go soon then."

"Sounds like an idea." She kissed him before returning to his throat. "How about on your knees, love?"

He nodded and shifted so he knelt on the bed while she stood over him. Unable to resist, he pulled her close and buried his face between her thighs. Pulling his face away, she smiled at him, " No love, not this time, now it's your turn."

Watching his face, she slowly lowered herself to her knees, sliding her body down his, feeling the heat of his skin, the tremble in his knees as her breasts slipped past his face, the way his mouth opened as if to take a nipple in, but instead a small gasp slipped out as her hot center rubbed against his hard cock.

"Lysa, " he whispered barely able to speak.

"Shhh. Don't speak, just enjoy." She touched a finger to his lips. Bending her head to his neck, she began to lick and nibble her way from his ear to his collarbone, holding him close to her with an arm firmly wrapped around his waist, pressing his hardness to her.

He could barely stay on his knees, desperate to push her down, to feel her underneath him. His hands wandered over her body, kneading her buttocks, running gently up her spine, tangling themselves in her hair.

As she felt his knees give way, she gently lowered him to the bed, and continued her way down his body, stopping to tend to each nipple, sucking it, swirling her tongue around, nipping it, to bring it to tight hardness as he squirmed beneath her.

She moved back up to kiss him, sucking his eager tongue into her mouth, tasting herself on him, enjoying the feel of him eagerly tasting her. Knowing that he was desperate to make love to her, made her slower. She wanted him to relax, to take it slow and leisurely.

Breaking the kiss, her tongue again began a slow circuit of his throat and neck, moving lower, to once again lick his nipples as she passed, licking small circles on his chest, as she moved across his smooth stomach to his hips, nibbling in the hollows of his pelvis, holding him down as he thrust himself upwards, but turning her head to lick the length of his cock, making him stuff his hand into his mouth to stop the scream that threatened.

Slowly she parted his thighs, spreading his legs. She lowered her mouth to his inner thighs and again began to lick in slow gentle circles up to his cock, which quivered in anticipation. Smiling, she gave it another long slow lick and then bent her head to take his testicles into her mouth, rolling them around, sucking on them, as he moaned and writhed on the bed.

Enjoying watching him, she finally began to work on his cock, licking it in long strokes from base to tip, swirling her tongue around the tip and sucking gently on it, taking it completely into her mouth, sucking him hard making him buck, and then starting again with the long slow licks.

As she felt his orgasm approaching, she nibbled her way back to his mouth, once again plunging her tongue into his receptive mouth. She pulled him on top of her and he needed no more encouragement. Holding her down he slipped easily inside her, and began to thrust with all his might.

She grabbed his hips stopping him. " Slowly, my love, slowly."

Robbed of coherent speech, he simply nodded, and began to slow his thrusts, lifting her legs to his waist. Obligingly she wrapped them around him, forcing him to slow his thrusts, as he couldn't fully withdraw, but matching them with thrusts of her own. She kept him to slow thrusts as long as she could, her hands running up and down his back, tracing the outlines of the many scars she found there.

Finally, his orgasm upon him, he began to thrust faster, all rational thought deserting him as he lost himself in the moment, all he could focus on was the feel of her, the way she smelt, the way she made him feel. As it crashed over him, he collapsed on top of her, his body shuddering, his limbs jerking as he lost all muscle control for a moment or two.

Having fought being dragged along with him through the bond, she held him close, arms wrapped around him until he regained control. She continued to hold him in her arms, stroking his forehead and whispering nonsense to him, until his breathing returned to normal and he could finally speak.

"And now you want me to hike?"

Laughing, she shoved him to the side and rose, holding out a hand to him. "By the way, lovely body art."

He groaned. "I can explain... I think."

"Don't worry about it. At least you had enough wits about you to keep it from being personal." She kissed him once more, running a hand over the tattoo. "I had some of your clothes brought here so you could dress."

"Good, because I'm not getting back into that... thing if I can help it." He swayed slightly and sank back onto the bed, head in his hands. "Damned enjoyable, but that was a workout."

Tossing his clothes on the bed, she offered her wrist to him. He drank several times and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. When he looked up at her a moment later, he smiled. "Much better. I think I can handle that hike now."

"I hope so. I have a lovely dinner planned."

"And I know what is on the menu for dessert." He reached out and pulled her down into his lap. Kissing her, he held her close. "You're mine now, Lysa."

"And no one else's."


	19. Blood and Souls, Chapter Nineteen

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Sex and language.

Spoilers: None

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

Blood and Souls

Chapter Nineteen

'The man who invented hot tubs deserves to be a saint,' McQueen thought, sinking down until only his head remained out of the water. Between their lovemaking before the hike, the time they stopped in a sunny glade and made out, and the three times since they had arrived at the cabin four hours ago, his body ached.

He sensed Lysa's approach a while later.

"Dinner will be ready in ten mikes." When he started to sit up, she pulled him back. "Don't bother. Stay in there. We'll eat out here on the deck. It's warm enough."

"Lysa, I don't want to-"

"Relax. I can feel how achy you are. Enjoy the water. I promise I'll give you a massage tonight."

His eyes lit up with the thought.

"And I'll even let you get some sleep." She kissed the top of his head.

He grinned. "Sleep? What's that?"

"Something you'll be needing, especially after last night." Chuckling as she remembered watching him dive off the board into the pool, she caressed his throat and jaw. "Just how much did you drink?"

"Patrick says three bottles. He kept filling my glass." He tilted his head back over the edge of the hot tub, baring his throat.

"And you kept drinking." She laughed softly, leaning over to kiss his throat.

The touch of her lips on his throat made him moan. "Lysa, when will you drink from me?"

"Later tonight." A last kiss and she straightened up, dropping her hands onto his shoulders and starting to massage. "Let's get you fed first, hm? I had a few movies dropped off with the groceries. After we eat, you can pick one and we'll watch it in the living room."

"Sounds good." He reached up and caressed her hand.

"Now, I better go back and finish dinner." She kissed the top of his head once more and walked back inside the cabin through the sliding glass door.

He reached over and picked up his glass of sparkling apple cider from the shelf. Looking out at the covered deck the hot tub occupied, he shook his head. Cabin was a misnomer if ever he heard one. The deck alone was the size of the 'Toga's bridge. Behind him, the cabin stood two stories tall, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room nearly as big as the deck complete with fireplace, a kitchen most cooks would die for that opened onto the deck via the sliding glass door, and a dining room that seated ten. That didn't include the weight room, the laundry room, the sauna or the not quite Olympic-sized swimming pool. Her family did nothing by half measures.

Her family. They were now his family. That brought back to mind a question that had occurred to him on the hike. He rolled over in the water, resting his hands and forearms on the edge of the hot tub. "Lysa."

"Yes?" she answered from the kitchen.

"Why didn't my kids stand as my family?"

"If they had stood as your family, they couldn't have been part of the bonding ceremony. The bonding between us is stronger for their participation in the ceremony. Their love and respect for you strengthened the bond, weaving it tighter than normal."

He heard the slight regret in her voice. "Hawkes is already calling you Mom."

"Much to Vansen's disgust. That was her role."

"She's more than that to him now." Chin on his hands, he said, "Lysa, they do respect you. They'll come to love you in time."

"An expert on love now, are you?" she laughed.

"Never said that." He paused and changed the subject. "So, how's the food coming along?"

"If you would get the trays from beside the hot tub and set them up, I'll bring it out now."

The credits for 'Never Give a Sucker an Even Break' rolled and McQueen stretched his arms over his head. He smiled down at Lysa, head on his bare chest, as she turned off the movie with the remote. "Still comfortable?"

"With you as a pillow? Of course." She ran her hand lightly from his ribs to his hips, not quite tickling his skin. Deliberately, she avoided his groin, stroking his inner thigh next to her own. She nudged his legs further apart, caressing down to his knees while she planted kisses on his chest.

Running his hands through her hair, feeling it slide over his skin, he sighed, satisfied with life for now. She sucked on one of his nipples and he moaned, moving a hand down to her breast, which he kneaded briefly before rolling the nipple between his fingers. When she switched nipples, so did he and he used the other hand to caress her throat. Her breath on his flesh sent ripples of electricity through him.

Before he could react, she shifted so she straddled his thighs and sat up stretching the kinks out of her back. The feel of his hands on her ribs made her smile as he moved them upward. She slid her hands down his arms, the fine hair on them almost tickling her hands. Fingers dancing across his chest and stomach, she wriggled until she sat just below his hardening cock. She leaned forward to kiss him, trusting him to take her weight, which he did, hands below her breasts.

"Not a lot of room here," he murmured, kissing and licking her jaw back to her ear, holding her up so only a couple of inches remained between them.

"I think we'll manage." Her hands darted down to stroke him firmly. She ground her hips against his, enjoying the feel of his hardness against her belly as he thrust upwards.

"I think you're right." Her fingers curled around him and he moaned, wanting nothing more than to thrust into her depths, to drive them both over the edge hard and fast. But he had other plans. "Not yet," he managed. "Slower, love. We have all the time in the world. I want to go slow this time. I want us to both really enjoy it to the fullest beforehand. Ok?"

"Yes." She gave him one last lingering stroke before sliding her hands up his belly, across his chest and to his shoulders. Massaging the neck and shoulders junctions, she shifted enough so that she took her own weight back. "We've done enough fast and frenzied today."

Seeing her above him, breasts so temptingly near, made him smile. He ran his hands up to frame her face. "Will you drink from me tonight?"

"Do you want me to?" Her emerald eyes gazed solemnly at him.

"Yes. It's been too long."

"Very well. And since it's your idea to go slow, you can start." She returned to an upright posture.

He chuckled softly. "Serves me right. Ok. Now, tell me, love, is that rug by the fireplace comfortable?"

"Very."

"Then let's move over there."

Time lost meaning to them both while they explored one another leisurely for the first time. Both knew there would be no Chig attacks, no duty in the morning to get up for, no one to pause outside in case they made too much noise, no interruptions of any sort. Trading places as desired, they explored, aroused and lowered the tension over and over again.

Once, he sucked and licked her toes, enjoying the sight of her squirming, panting for breath. In retaliation, she repeated the toe assault she had performed at the pool, adding licking and sucking on each toe in turn.

Kneeling between her legs, licking and kissing the hollow of her hip, hands kneading her buttocks, he decided that he didn't want to wait any longer. His fingers slipped into her easily and he moved them until he found the right spot. Her breathing became hard and fast as she thrust herself onto his fingers. Before she could climax, he pulled his fingers free, grinning at the moan of disappointment.

Her legs wrapped around his waist and he found himself flipped over onto his back, grinning up at her as she moved her legs outside his. She sat up on his thighs, fingers toying with the head of his cock. "Sit up."

He raised an eyebrow, but did so.

Smoothly she rose and moved up until she was right before his face. Hands in his hair, she slid down, his tongue licking her thigh, then the hollow of her hip, her stomach quivering under the relentless licks, and then he latched onto a breast. Going to her knees, she gently bent his head down so he continued sucking on her breast.

He started kneading her other breast while continuing to lavish attention with his mouth on the first one. Totally unprepared for the hot breath caressing his navel, he moaned, hands tightening unconsciously. The warm, wet tip of her tongue circling it sent waves of heat through him. The heat ignited when she ran her tongue over it lightly and he wrapped his arms around her, shudders coursing through him. He tried to raise his head as her tongue resumed circling, but realized that she had shifted enough to trap his head between her arm and chest. Another lick and he didn't care where his head was as a raging fire swept through him. The wet warmth resumed its torturous circling, licking him often enough to keep him on fire. He mumbled incoherently as the sensations built up. When it felt as if the flames could burn no hotter, he cried out as she sucked on his navel, delicious internal combustion searing a path along his nerves, making him tremble with the force of it. Once, twice, three more times she sucked on him, each more intense than the last until he would have fallen back onto the floor, shaking, if she hadn't been holding him up.

It took him a moment to focus after she lowered him to the floor and started caressing his heaving chest. "No one's ever done that to me," he admitted. "If they went near it, they usually sucked it hard. It was the fastest way to get me hard, and going."

She leaned over and kissed him. "Did you enjoy it?" she asked, grinning broadly.

"You know I did. Could you feel it?"

She nodded. "Part of why I did it. I wanted to feel your reaction to it." When he levered himself up onto an elbow, she leaned forward to kiss him. "You are so damned delicious, Ty."

The touch of her fingers on his aching cock made him gasp softly. A soft touch to his navel in addition made him writhe, eyes closed as the intense sensations overcame him. His breathing hitched as she repeated the touch several times. He moaned, thrusting up with his hips, needing more friction. As he slid up into her, he blindly grabbed her hips and slammed her down onto him fully, making her cry out with pleasure.

He stayed on his back for a moment longer, enjoying the feel of her riding him hard and stroking his navel. But it wasn't enough. He needed more. With a needy growl, he rolled them onto her back and started thrusting hard as her legs wrapped around his waist. She met every thrust and continued to send fire through his navel until he was moaning continuously. Sliding into a frenzy of sensations, he lost himself in the hard and fast rhythm, head dropping down onto her shoulder.

Her mouth on his throat barely registered. His pleasure doubled and he thrust even harder, suddenly desperate in his need to finish. His climax overtook him, shocking him with its suddenness. As he spiraled out, he felt her with him, intertwined spiritually as well as physically.

Recovering, he found himself sprawled on her and reluctantly started to roll to the side.

"You're fine right there, love." She moved a leg over his.

"Good," he breathed, settling back in place. "I'm wiped out."

Her hand ran through his sweat-dampened hair, over his ear, down his neck to his shoulder. "Just relax then. You don't need to move."

His breathing evened out and he felt himself falling asleep. "I don't think I'll make it to the bedroom."

"Ok. We can sleep here." She slipped out from beneath him, rolling him onto his back. "Before you sleep though, you better drink from me."

He drank her blood and sighed, letting his head drop back onto the rug. "I am so tired."

"Go to sleep, love. After all, I did promise you a massage tonight."

"I'll be asleep in minutes," he warned.

"Go ahead." She took his softening cock into her mouth, sucking him dry gently and cleaning him up.

When she returned from a quick shower and a closet rummage, she found him snoring softly. Blankets were tossed on the couch before she tucked a pillow under his head and set a bottle of massage oil down near him. She arranged him so that she could give the promised massage and smiled as she started.

He woke up, feeling a hand tracing patterns on his back. "How long?" he asked groggily.

"Only an hour. Go back to sleep."

He nodded once and snuggled back down under the blanket, content.

The next time he woke up it was to the smell of breakfast.

"You have time for a quick shower. Any longer and it'll either be burnt or cold."

"Going." Getting to his feet, he tossed the blanket on the couch and headed for the bathroom.

The hot water felt wonderful as it sluiced over his body, washing away mingled dried sweat and oil. He smiled on seeing both his usual shampoo and her strawberry one on the shelf. Washed and rinsed off, he turned off the water and grabbed one of the fluffy towels on a rack and quickly dried off.

He stepped into the kitchen, inhaling deeply. "That smells good."

Giving him a quick look, she said, "You look better than it smells." She slid the omelet onto a plate beside another one that had several bites already taken out of it. "This one's yours."

He grabbed a fork and sat down at the breakfast nook, pulling the plate to him. "I like the look."

She pirouetted in the apron that barely covered her making it fly out from her body. When he reached out for her, she let him pull her close for a hungry kiss. Released at last, she laughed softly. "Love, you need to eat some real food."

"Later." He started nuzzling her neck.

"Now." She pushed away slowly. "As much as I would like to start the day off that way, you need to refuel."

His stomach growled and he laughed ruefully. "All right. Two to one. Guess I have no choice."

He ate quickly, watching her as she ate and cleaned up the kitchen. "You know, I can help with that."

"You just eat. This is my second meal this morning. I woke up some time ago." She wiped the skillet dry.

He paused, fork nearly to his mouth. "And you didn't wake me?"

"You needed the sleep." Setting the skillet back in the cupboard, she took off the apron and set it on the counter. "Besides, I didn't think you wanted a romp through the woods at oh dark hundred. I caught a couple of rabbits, they satisfied my hunger." She pushed the fork into his mouth. "Eat." She sat down opposite him, watching him.

Eating mechanically, he realized that sooner or later he was going to have to see her hunt and kill in her other form. He waited until he finished his omelet before saying, "Lysa, I want to come with you next time."

"Sure?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll wake you." Pointing to his empty plate, she said, "You can help by cleaning that."

While he washed the plate, she ran her hands up his sides, down his front, over his thighs and back up. "I'm going to drop this," he warned.

"Consider it training for keeping your cool under extreme conditions." She pressed against his back, hands grasping his hips firmly.

He had just set the plate down on the counter when her tongue started circling his navel. She refused to let him move as the heat built up. His hands clenched the counter edge as she drew her tongue slowly over the top of his navel, the warmth igniting the fire in his body. A groan tore its way loose as she repeated the movement.

Dipping her tongue into the hollow several times, she caught him as his knees buckled, pulling him back into her so that he didn't hit the counter on the way down. She held him against her with one hand as she resumed working around the outside of his navel. The other hand eased his hands from the counter one by one. Another slow lick across it made him arch against her, head rolling back onto her shoulder. He allowed her to lower him down onto his side on the floor with the help of another slow tongue washing.

In his ear, she whispered, "I want to see how you react if I take you the distance. Are you up for it?"

It took him a moment to be able to speak. "How can I say no?" He wanted the burning fire back.

"You can, love. Any time," she breathed softly in his ear.

"Do it," he moaned. "All the way." He bent his head away from her, giving her complete access.

Her breath on his navel made him twitch and the fire flared up. Soon his reality consisted completely of her mouth's delicious torture and the raging fire that seared his nerve endings. He lost all awareness of the fact that she held him firmly around the chest as he thrashed and writhed on the floor, whimpering from the sheer magnitude of the pleasure overwhelming him.

She eased up on the assault to give him a chance to breathe when he started gasping for air. Before he fully recovered, she flicked her tongue in and out of his navel several times, sending him back down into the flames. As he drowned in the sensations, she started adding an occasional light suck to her repertoire.

Lightening flashed along his nerves. Stars burst behind his eyes.

She added dipping her tongue in and out while sucking. By the fourth time, she knew he would not last longer. He thrashed and writhed so hard, sobbing from the sensations; he nearly tore loose from her hold.

A nova went off in his body and he screamed, convulsing with the intensity. Glimpsing the universe briefly, he felt her arms holding him tightly before soothing darkness engulfed him.

Holding his twitching body, she stroked him until the convulsions mostly disappeared. He still labored to breathe as she stretched him out on the floor. After cleaning both him and the floor, she carefully picked him up and carried him to the couch. Occasional twitches jerked his arms and legs so she tucked a blanket around him and sat beside him, caressing his cheek, running her fingers over his sweat soaked skin and through his damp hair.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, he opened his eyes. "If they had done that to us, they'd have had us begging to dig the mines. Thank god they had no idea."

"Up to a shower?"

"Yes."

Getting up, he discovered that his legs had different ideas about his readiness. He abruptly sat back down on the couch. "That usually doesn't happen," he said sheepishly.

"This time we'll do it together."

She helped him to the downstairs bathroom and into the shower. "I'll get you something to wear."

The water turned on as hot as he could stand, he said, "Please."

His body responded to the invigorating spray, reviving and recovering. He washed thoroughly, enjoying the fact he didn't have to ration water.

Dressed, McQueen strode outside onto the deck, standing looking out at the scenery. He breathed deeply, the earthy smells enticingly close.

He smiled as he felt Lysa's hands slip around his waist. "What's making you smile, love?" she whispered in his ear

"Fancy a walk in the woods?" he asked her, turning around to kiss her full on the lips.

She nodded, "That'd be nice. Shall we get geared up?" She turned toward the door.

Catching her arm, he laughed, "No, no gear, a walk, not a run. I just want to take a stroll with my wife. "

She raised her eyebrows, "A stroll? In these woods? You'll be lucky."

"I hope so, " he grinned.

They'd been walking, or as Lysa teased him, strolling, an hour or so, when they came upon a waterfall, splashing down into a clear blue pool. Wild flowers grew along the banks of the pool and trees overhung it. It was cool and shady, the perfect spot to sit and rest.

McQueen tugged on her hand, the hand he'd been holding ever since they left the cabin. "Come on," he grinned. "Let's take a swim. I've never been skinny dipping in the wild before! And this looks perfect."

She laughed and nodded. Hastily they shed their clothes, leaving them heaped at the water's edge.

"You knew this was here, didn't you?" he asked her as he floated on his back, enjoying the contrasting feel of the cool water and the heat of the sun on his exposed skin.

"Of course I did." she grinned, "Been skinny dipping here for years!"

She swam up to him, and flipped him over. He disappeared under the water, emerging coughing and spluttering, "Hey, that's not fair!" he laughed, grabbing for her head to push her under.

It soon turned into a play fight, each struggling to keep the other from getting out of the pool until eventually Lysa declared herself the winner, worrying that she was tiring him out.

They clambered out and stretched out on the grassy bank to dry off, McQueen pulling her close as he closed his eyes. "I could stay like this forever," he whispered.

"Could you, Ty? "

"Oh yes. As long as you were here beside me." He began to trace little circles on her bare flesh, his eyes still closed, but a smile spreading across his face, as he felt her stomach quiver under his touch.

Gently he pulled her closer, opening his eyes. He watched her face as he kissed her, tasting her lips as if he'd never kissed her before, slowly, gently outlining her mouth with his tongue before pushing inside and sucking her tongue into his mouth. His hands began feather light touches to her body, gently stroking her neck, her throat, her shoulders, as he worked his way down her body. Each touch followed by a soft kiss, a lick or a nibble, as he moved his head to follow his hands. Reaching her breasts, he spent time kneading them, burying his face in them, suckling them each in turn, rolling her nipples in his fingers, as she moaned his name, reaching out to touch him, to stroke him, to run her hands up and down his back, gently scraping him with her nails.

"No, love," he whispered, lifting his head from her breasts. "This is for you, " he grinned. "After this morning, it's the least I can do."

His attention returned to her breasts. He swirled his tongue around her erect nipples before slowly working his way further down her body. Each scar, each rib, received the same loving attention, a gentle kiss, a lick and a nibble before he moved on to the next.

By the time he'd reached her navel, she could barely hold still. Her hands were on his head, fingers twisted into a tight grip in his short hair, desperately trying to push him lower.

Using both hands on her hips to hold her down, he began to suckle on her navel, to swirl his tongue around it, repeating the actions she'd used on him earlier that morning. Feeling her writhing underneath him, he smiled and increased the pace, slipping his hands down to her thighs, gently pulling her legs apart enough for him to move his head lower, to search out her clit in the hot moist depths of her center.

One hand continued to hold her down, as she bucked beneath him, the other he used to slowly slip two fingers inside her, searching out the spot that he knew would make her scream. He concentrated on sucking her nub into his mouth, licking and nibbling gently on it, while starting a slow but steady rhythm inside her.

As she began to buck more wildly, pulling at his hair and whimpering with each thrust of his fingers, he increased the pace, determined to bring her over before entering her himself. He felt her muscles tightening around his fingers, her hot fluids gushing into his hand, as she bucked fiercely, almost throwing him off her. As she collapsed back onto the grass, he slowly slid his fingers out, and licked them clean, enjoying the taste of her, pleased with his efforts.

He looked up to see her watching him. "You look like you're enjoying that," she laughed.

"Oh, I am," he grinned, and buried his face back between her thighs, licking her clean, before kissing his way back to her breasts.

Positioning himself he pressed against her, smiling as she groaned when she felt him sliding inside of her. Bending his head to kiss her, he reached to pull her legs up. Lysa wrapped them around him as he began to push himself into her deeply, this time he was going to love her as hard as he could. Knowing that he couldn't hurt her, he pumped with all his might, feeling her thrusting upwards to meet him. He kept up a hard and fast pace until his own orgasm threatened. Determined to wait until she'd come he slowed down a little, causing her to grip him firmly with her thighs, unwilling to let him stop.

Finally when he could hold back no longer, he felt her tightening around him. Her whole body went rigid as the force of her orgasm swept her away, dragging him along, his own joining hers. He collapsed on top of her, unable to catch his breath, her arms wrapped as firmly around him as her legs.

They drifted to sleep like that, waking hours later when a light rain began to fall. Laughing, they hurriedly dressed and headed back to the cabin, the rain chilling them as they ran.

After they dried off, he volunteered to make lunch if she started a fire in the living room. He brought out a huge Cobb salad and a pitcher of ice water. He found that she had put on another movie. Together they demolished the salad, sharing the bowl, watching the movie from the couch. Head in her lap, he kept losing track of the movie as she ran her fingers through his hair, over his ear, along his jaw to his throat and down his chest.

"Ready for another round, are you?" he asked when he'd lost track of what was going on for the fifth time.

"Always, love. But I'm not trying to arouse you. It's just supposed to be relaxing."

"It is, but I also feel like I should be reciprocating." He looked up at her face.

"Not necessary, Ty." She kissed his temple. "I enjoy touching you, love. Just because I'm touching you, stroking you, caressing you, it doesn't mean that you have to do it back. You can just lie there and enjoy it. As you've no doubt noticed, I can barely keep my hands off you when we're alone. It's not changing because we're married."

"Should I worry if you stop touching?" He meant it half jokingly.

To his surprise, she answered seriously. "Depends on the circumstances. If I have a reason to be distracted, no. If there's no visible reason why I've stopped, ask me." Again she kissed his temple. "Now, what I'm doing here, it just feels good to run my hands over you. I enjoy the feel of your skin."

"Pretty rough in spots."

"So's mine." She smiled at him. "Character building, I believe the Corps calls it."

"We've certainly got the character part right." He chuckled. "Is there any popcorn in this joint?"

"If you can stand my leaving you for a few minutes, yes."

"Popcorn, popcorn, how can you watch a movie without popcorn?" He pulled her down for a kiss. "Please."

"Ok."

The movie paused; he watched her walk into the kitchen, admiring the way her body moved. He thought about some mischief when she returned, but decided that he would rather have hot popcorn to watch the movie with. There was always after the movie.

Staring up at the star studded sky, McQueen felt replete in all ways. The deck's roof rolled back, he could see the constellations clearly. It seemed remarkable to him that out there, billions and billions of miles away, people were fighting an alien race.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Probably not worth that much." He sighed and pulled her down onto his chaise lounge. "You make a mean lasagna, Lysa."

She laughed, cuddling against his chest. "Why thank you. I have picked up a few tricks over the years. Mother insisted that we learn how to cook."

"Tell me something. How the hell did you end up a teacher?"

"Mother. She insisted on a compromise between Father and me. I had to finish at least four years of college and try a job before I could enter the Marines. Needless to say, that inspired me to finish my college courses quickly. After a year of teaching, I couldn't stand it anymore and enlisted. Mother said I fulfilled my side of the bargain."

"A formidable woman, your mother."

"Oh, yes. No one has won an argument with her yet. Not even Father." She chuckled, stroking his hair, then his cheek.

Pulling her all the way down beside him, he wrapped his arms around her. "I expect there will be some terrific fights between us." He sighed as her arms snaked around his chest.

"No doubt. We'll face it when we have to. I'm too besotted with you to even think about it." She kissed him tenderly.

As they kissed, arms and legs becoming entangled, he remembered the mischief he'd started after the movie had finished. They had ended up on the rug again, her above him the entire time. The firelight had imparted a glow to her flushed skin that had driven him wild. His hands had wandered everywhere.

"You know, this isn't going to be very comfortable, love." She raised herself onto an elbow to look down at him. "There's the bed upstairs that we haven't even slept in yet."

"Sounds good to me."

The sun hadn't risen when he woke up in the comfort of a large bed. Warm breath on his stomach wrung a moan from him.

"Awake at last."

"God, woman, you're insatiable." He grinned and flung back the covers in time to see her move upward to his chest. As her mouth started licking and nibbling, he reached down to find one of her nipples and play with it.

"You don't seem to mind," she chuckled, a finger running up the length of his now quite hard cock.

"Not in the least."

The sun had climbed up over the trees by the time they headed down to the kitchen for some food after a shower that had led to yet more fun. As she pulled out the ingredients for two more omelets, he chopped, diced and sliced them according to her wishes. While she cooked using two pans, he cleaned up. The delicious smell of the omelet made his mouth water and his stomach growl.

"We'll feed you, greedy gut." She laughed, tossing a towel at him so he could hang it up.

"Good. I'm starving."

"You're a Marine. You're always starving. It's part of your training to become a bottomless pit that will eat whatever the chow boys put before you. Couple of plates, please."

He set two plates on the counter by the stove and went to the refrigerator. "What do you want to drink?"

"Besides you?" When he gave her a mock frown, she grinned. "OJ sounds good."

He poured two glasses and grabbed a couple of forks. "Where do you want to eat?"

"How about the deck?"

"Ok."

After they ate, he carried the dishes inside and returned to find her sitting on the deck stairs looking out into the forest. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just wondering if I wanted to go out now or in a bit."

Running his hand down her back, he said, "You just ate."

"If that's a vote to stay, then I will."

"Not necessarily a vote to stay." He ran his hand up to her neck and twined his fingers in her hair. "I don't feel like running anywhere right now."

Her lips curved into a smile. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"Then let's go now."

After a pause, she nodded and rose. With swift economical movements, she stripped off her clothes and folded them neatly on the deck. Her body twisted, shimmered and suddenly the four footed beast he had seen stood staring into his eyes. "Shall we go?" Her voice came out guttural and harsh.

"Yes."

As they walked into the woods, he found that her shoulder fur brushed his fingertips.

They had walked for fifteen minutes when she stopped and glanced up at him. "There's a glade up ahead with a rabbit warren. I spotted it yesterday on the way back."

"Shall I meet you there?"

She nodded. "The trail runs right up to the glade."

"Go on."

He watched as she faded into the undergrowth. With a wry shake of his head, he took a deep breath and mentally changed his attitude, switching from relaxed to the stalking hunter. With careful steps, he advanced along the trail, avoiding the loose branches and other noisemakers. An increase in the light level told him the glade was ahead and he moved off the trail. Crouched behind a large pine tree, he eased around to peer into the forest clearing. Several rabbits nibbled on the rich clover while one, a sentry, stood on a slight embankment.

A brown blur raced into the clearing. Two rabbits flew into the air before the sentry could sound the alarm. As the remaining rabbits bolted for the warren, he saw Lysa grab one of the rabbits, sink her teeth into it, and shake it violently. She held the still body partially under a foot and tore it in half, gulping down the part in her mouth. The other half followed. She repeated the performance on the second rabbit.

As she vanished back into the undergrowth opposite him, McQueen headed back to the trail. She was waiting for him thirty feet down the trail, cleaning her fur. A last lick and she looked up at him.

"Where to now?" he asked. "Maybe skinny dipping?"

She nodded once and rose to all fours.

In silence they walked side by side. At the water's edge, Lysa shimmered, returning to her human form as he undressed. The cool water felt good while the hot sun beat down on him and he submerged completely before floating. He watched as she dove under the water, reappearing near him, treading water.

"You were faster than I anticipated," he said quietly. "You surprised me."

"Supposed to be that way."

He heard a trace of apprehension in her voice. "Lysa, it changes nothing between us. Except deepen my respect for your skills. I still love you and I'm looking forward to the time we both go on a mission together and I get to see you in action." Changing to treading water himself, he pulled her close for a kiss.

The water closed over their heads as they kissed. Parting, they kicked for the surface and, laughing, they swam for the shore.

Kissing again, McQueen felt a chill as the sun disappeared behind clouds. He glanced at the sky and frowned at the heavy dark clouds.

"Looks like a storm is brewing." She gently pushed him toward his clothes. "Let's resume at the cabin. Where there's a fire and food."

A breeze swept through the trees and McQueen shivered slightly. "Good idea." He grabbed his clothes.

Back in four-footed form, Lysa paced him on the trip to the cabin. She changed at the steps, scooped up her clothes and headed inside as the sky opened up.

McQueen closed the door, grateful to be shutting out the weather. "Still have some movies to watch?"

"Of course." She crouched before the fireplace.

"Good." He moved behind her, hands on her waist. "We'll watch one in a little while." He nibbled her neck.

The fire caught and Lysa closed the screen before leaning into him. "Another good idea."

Lounging before the fire, McQueen felt content, holding her in his arms. A growl from his midriff made him smile.

"Sounds like it's time to make dinner," laughed Lysa, rolling away.

"Guess so, since we skipped lunch," he sighed ruefully, watching her stand up, but enjoying the sight of her in the firelight.

"Want to help?" She held out her hand. "You can make the salad."

"Sure."

Pulled onto his feet, he let her walk into the kitchen ahead of him, admiring the view. He caught the apron tossed to him and shook his head as he put it on. "Ruining my image."

"Protecting the assets," she grinned, opening the refrigerator.

"I'll go with that." As he took the salad ingredients handed to him, he smiled remembering the workout the 'assets' had gotten that afternoon. Two short and frenzied sessions before the movie and a long leisurely time after it, resulting in them napping for a couple of hours.

As he made the salad, he kept an eye on the food Lysa was making. Pork chops, garlic bread, and melted chocolate that she dipped strawberries and raspberries in were prepped. "Looks good."

She smiled at him after putting the chops into the hot skillet. "Should taste good, too."

The food met McQueen's expectations as they ate in the living room, side by side, knees touching, their plates on the coffee table.

Lysa rose and started gathering the dishes. "I'll get dessert."

"I thought you were dessert," he grinned.

"And you call me insatiable." Shaking her head, she headed for the kitchen.

As she walked away, he watched, realizing another thing that appealed to him about her. Being naked for extended periods of time didn't bother her. Spending most of his first five years of life naked in the mines had led to some awkward moments after earning his freedom. Discovering that most normal borns had difficulties dealing with nakedness outside of sex, he had quickly learned the proper behaviors. But there were times he longed for the freedom of his youth.

"Ty?" she asked quietly.

Jerked back to the present, he blinked and looked up at her. "Sorry."

She sat facing him, setting the bowl of chocolate covered berries on the coffee table. "You were somewhere else, love."

"Just remembering something."

"What?" Her hand caressed his jaw.

He didn't answer directly. "Are all vampires and Remal free of sexual and body hang-ups?"

Raising an eyebrow, she answered, "Most. There are those like Patrick who suffered traumas as children. Or those who, for some reason, weren't raised by vampires and Remal families, like Rhonda. Now why?"

He stared at his hands, clasped in his lap. "In the mines, the guards kept us naked, the better to control us. After all, why bother clothing tanks that were just going to die? It helped to make us less human. The only time we got clothes was for the two or three yearly inspections. And the clothes had to be clean and undamaged when turned in." With a sigh, he looked at her. "I've never met people who didn't have a problem with nakedness. Until you and your family."

Rising to her knees, she kissed his forehead. "My poor beloved Ty. If I could, I would punish every person who ever mistreated you."

"You and Glen are the only ones who ever felt that way."

"Don't forget your kids. They'd go to hell and back again for you."

He nodded briefly. "But they are not my friends, like you and Glen. In time, I think they will be, but I'm still a father figure to them."

Closing her eyes and leaning her head against his forehead, she sighed. "Ty, they are also your friends. You are more than a father to them now, love. You are their friend as well. You need to recognize that and treat them accordingly from time to time. You wouldn't have spent as much time with them if you were only a father to them."

"You're right." He raised his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks. "I need you to remind me of such things. I still have a lot to learn."

"So do we all, love. That is the adventure of life." She smiled and kissed him properly. As she pulled away, she popped a chocolate covered raspberry in his mouth. "Dessert time."

When they finally retired to the bedroom, she gave him a massage, hoping to ease the tension still coiled in his body. She cuddled behind his sleeping form, slipping her arm around him.

Waking, Silver frowned briefly on finding herself alone in the bed. She padded downstairs and smiled, seeing him sitting before the fireplace, basking in the warmth he had created. "What's up?" she asked quietly, sitting down behind him, sliding her hands around his waist.

He felt her head on his shoulder and sighed. "Lysa, how many others have you done that to?"

"Done what... Ah, the navel trick." When he nodded tightly once, she smiled softly. "One."

"Only one?" He tried not to sound disbelieving.

"Yes. It's not something I do lightly. It's an intensely personal experience that I get to share, to a degree." She rubbed his chest. "Orion came to us after two owners. His first was a real bastard, but he fell into debt to Luke, a friend of Father's. Luke took Orion as payment of the debt. He treated Orion well, but it took him over a year to earn Orion's trust. Luke...Luke was a good man, but he had epilepsy and leukemia from an accident in his youth."

He heard the sorrow in her voice. "You liked him."

"Everyone liked Luke. He never let the bad things get him down. Even confined to a wheelchair, he managed to really enjoy life. Anyway, Luke refused to have a live-in nurse, so Orion became his watcher. I guess knowing that Luke trusted him to take care of him helped Orion to realize that not everyone was like his first owner. Luke also had Orion taking classes at our place so he could see how our folks were treated."

"What happened?" From the way she talked, he knew Luke was dead.

"Orion called in a panic. Luke had a severe epileptic attack. He had done everything he could, but it refused to stop. Father rushed over. He stopped the attack and took Luke to the hospital. Between the leukemia and recurring epileptic attacks, Luke's strength drained away. It took him three days to die. At the end, he took Hakur's gift and died peacefully."

"Was Luke a Remal?"

She shook her head slightly. "No, though he knew what we were. He was a true friend."

"And Orion? What became of him?"

"Luke deeded him to Father, knowing that Orion would gain his freedom after a couple of years."

"So how did Orion... how did you find out about the navel?" He tensed.

She sat straight and started massaging his shoulders. "I was fourteen and determined to join the Marines. Father wanted something else. I stormed off. Orion found me two hours later while he was hiding out. He was feeling awkward, unsure of himself in the new surroundings and he was still mourning Luke, though he was having a hard time understanding what he was feeling. We talked. We talked a lot. Once he realized that I would answer any questions he had, he asked a lot of them. He finally asked me what I wanted to know. I asked him about his navel. I knew about them, but I had never had the chance to see, touch, and explore one. He allowed me to. Orion was my first IV and I learned a lot from him."

With a sigh, she continued. "One of the things he told me was that his first owner had learned to use his navel against him. By inflicting pain through it, he controlled him." She felt McQueen's shudders of revulsion. "It took him nearly eighteen months to let Luke get any where near his navel. Orion cried when Luke treated him gently, lovingly and showed him that it didn't have to hurt. It was Luke who realized that he could give Orion pleasure to the same degree as the pain had been. They explored the possibilities, but with Luke so ill and lacking strength, Orion had feared hurting him if they went too far."

"So Luke never got to see Orion 'go the distance'?"

"No. Orion regretted that. A week after our talk, he asked me if I would be willing to try it. I agreed. It took me two weeks to work up to completing it. I wanted to make sure I knew what to expect on the way. He would ask me from time to time to do it. I decided that it's something too intensely personal to just do to anyone."

"Is Orion still here?" From the way she talked, he suspected not.

Hands stopping, she leaned her forehead against his back. "No. It was a stupid accident. We were riding, not too far from here in fact. His horse shied, some damned bird exploded out from under the horse's feet. He fell and his horse in its panic kicked him in the head. I held his hand for ten minutes or so before realizing that he wasn't going to make it. I gave him Hakur's gift. We buried him deep in the forest. He loved the forest."

"I'm sorry. It's sounds like he learned a lot from you."

"It's ok. I remember him quite fondly." She kissed his shoulder. "So, I haven't done it to anyone until you, Ty. I've given them some of the pleasure, but never the entire thing."

Reaching back to grip her hand, he said, "I'm sorry if it sounded like I was jealous. I didn't want to be. I wanted to be above all that."

She squeezed his hand. "There's a lot about my past you don't know, Ty. I don't mind your asking. I'll tell you anything I can."

Leaning back into her, he sighed. "I know." When she pushed him forward slightly so she could resume the massage, he said quietly, "Part of why I asked about it was..." He dropped his head forward, chewing his lower lip. "I wanted to ask you if... if you would do it again." His voice trailed away.

"Any particular reason why? Besides the fact that it felt good?" She hugged him tightly.

"That _is _a large part of it. The other is..." He paused then continued in a rush. "After this, we won't be anywhere alone where you can do this again for who knows how long. I want to experience it at least once more."

"Just desiring me to do it again is enough, Ty. Just tell me where and when." Rubbing her face against his back, she inhaled his scent mingled with the faint smoke smell.

"Here and now?"

"Positive?" She grinned at the traces of eagerness and hesitation in his voice. Breathing softly on his navel made him squirm and press back against her.

"Yes," he groaned as she started nibbling his neck.

"Ok. Let's go ahead and have you lie down on your side then."

Working slowly, she built up the fire in his body by just circling his navel and occasionally running her tongue over it. She could feel the tremors coursing through his body as she continued. When he completely relaxed, trusting her to keep him safe, she rewarded him with several dips into his navel. He bucked in her arms, moaning. His heart pounded in his chest and she could feel it hammering under her hand as she drew her tongue over the raised bud slowly, letting the tip of her tongue stroke just inside.

His moans dissolved into whimpers as the sensations completely engulfed him. A blazing inferno inhabited his body, the sheer pleasure of it devouring him. Even stray coherent thoughts vanished as she sucked lightly, igniting a fusion reaction at his core.

Another light suck and she tightened her grip on his twisting body. An arm snaked free and flailed for several seconds before she recaptured it, tucking it back against his straining chest. She slowed down, letting the tension lower and giving him the chance to breathe.

"No," he moaned. "More."

"Don't worry, love. You need to breathe every so often." She ran her tongue over his navel, holding him as he bucked and twisted futilely against her arms. "Just a reminder of what's to come."

"Yes." He sobbed softly when she started the slow circles once more. "More, now, please," he pleaded, bending his head forward.

She continued the slow circles for several minutes. Then she dipped her tongue three times fast.

A needy moan escaped as the fire sped through his nerves, leaving him twisting under its influence. Head thrown back against her shoulder, he shuddered hard enough to nearly break free when she sucked on him. Lightening flashes started zinging through him as she alternated sucking with her tongue flicking in and out.

Once more she deliberately stopped the intense buildup.

He sobbed in frustration, his body drenched in sweat. Her tongue moved to the side of his neck, licking and nibbling. It took him a minute to manage "Please!"

"Easy, easy. You'll get there. I promise." She continued nibbling on his throat. Loosening her grip on him, she let him think that she had no intention of resuming soon.

He lay trembling in her arms from the aftermath of what he'd already experienced. Her mouth suddenly covering his navel, sucking, as her tongue darting in and out rapidly slammed him back into the intense pleasure, sparks showering behind his eyes.

Taking him right to the edge, she held him there for a moment as he thrashed wildly, incoherent in his need, totally uncontrolled and helpless. A dim portion of his brain begged for her to finish it, to send him out, to let him glimpse the workings of the universe, but his mouth could only mumble.

Lifting her head slightly, she breathed on his navel, letting him suppose she was slowing down again. She sucked once more, her tongue going fast and deep into his navel repeatedly.

The force of suns exploding sent him flying, his screaming body in the throes of convulsions as he saw and understood for a split second why everything happened the way it did.

Holding him tightly, she settled in to wait as he sank into oblivion at last. The twitching lasted longer than the previous time. Once he lay mostly still, she cleaned him up before going to get a warm washcloth to clean the rug and a hand towel to wipe him down and dry his hair. She snuggled up behind him, pulling a blanket over them both, and whispered sonnets until he returned.

With a shudder, he returned to awareness. "That was even more powerful. All I can say is it's a damn good thing the IVA doesn't know about this." He rubbed his head against the arm under it and stroked the arm over his chest. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Ty. Now why don't you just sleep for a while? It is the middle of the night, you know." She laughed softly.

"Not quite yet." He turned over and kissed her soundly, exploring her mouth once more.

"Love, you really need to rest now." She ran her hands up his arms to his shoulders, stroking the well-muscled body lovingly. "Remember what happened before?"

"I'm not trying to stand up on my legs. And what you gave me is not something I can just accept without reciprocating." He laved the hollow of her throat, making her moan.

She gave up protesting, running her fingers through his hair, loving the feel of his skin under her hands.

He rested on his side, head propped on one hand while the other stroked the sleeping body next to him. Briefly he debated whether to stay on the rug or move to the bedroom, but decided that he would rather stay where he was. Soon enough they would have to leave this idyllic place and such peaceful times would be few and far between. Reaching over to the couch, he drew down the blanket, covering them both. Two pillows followed and he carefully tucked one under her head, smoothing her hair out, playing with the strands, enjoying the rare fact that he was still awake while she slept.

The fire crackled and he suppressed the jump his body tried to make. Telling himself firmly that there was no danger, he settled down behind her, sliding his hand down to press her back against him. A deep breath and he closed his eyes, seeking the sleep that had eluded him earlier.

He woke as cool air slid down his back briefly. "What are you doing?"

"Coming back to you, love. On the way back, I saw there was a message on the vid-phone. It was Mac, sorry, MacIntyre. He says we don't have to report back to the house until this evening. Our departure has been delayed and he saw no reason for all of us to wait around at Loxley longer than necessary. He's already informed the others."

"What time is it?"

"O530."

"Time to get more sleep then."

"I agree."

He squirmed until he felt her firmly against his back. As her arm draped over his chest, he gave a sigh of pleasure. "Later, love."

"Later, love."

Opening his eyes, he smiled on finding his head on her shoulder. Sunlight shone on the wall, telling him they had slept for some time. He licked the firm mound before his mouth and felt the sigh she gave. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long. I was just enjoying the fact you were sleeping peacefully and on me." She stroked his hair. "You rarely sleep with your head on my shoulder or any other part of me."

He chuckled. "Hard to do in those skinny, barely room for one, things called beds on the 'Toga."

"I know. But even on the Bacchus, you slept apart from me." Her thumb rubbed his throat.

"Maybe it's because now it's official." His fingers traced patterns lightly on her belly, making the skin quiver. "Whatever the reason, I'm glad to know I can do it."

"So am I. Even if it's a while before it happens again." She pulled him up for a kiss. With one hand, she reached down to grasp him firmly and pumped several times while the other hand curled behind his head, fingers massaging his scalp.

"So when do we have to leave?" He shifted onto his hands and knees over her, nibbling her neck, enjoying the feel of her hands on him.

"To make it by dinner, fifteen hundred." Her hand moved from his head to his shoulder, fingers kneading his muscles. "Mac is joining us for dinner."

"Good. Plenty of time then."

The sun rode high in the sky by the time they started making brunch. As she washed some tomatoes, he slid his arms around her, under the shirt she wore, and kissed behind her ear, nuzzling aside her damp hair. He breathed in the strawberry scent happily.

"Don't ever change shampoos," he growled.

"Is that an order?" She set the tomatoes down and reached up to run her fingers through his almost dry hair.

"Does it have to be?"

"No, but as I'm now your XO-"

He spun her around, staring into her eyes. "You gave up the co-commanding slot? Why? Was it because of the squad?"

Shaking her head, she cupped his cheek. "No, Ty. _You_ are the 5-8's commanding officer. I'm content to be the XO. After all, I kept my last name."

"Yeah, poor Glen. Imagine how confusing it would have been to have him bellow, 'McQueen' and have us both responding." He chuckled. "But seriously, Lysa, you didn't have to do that. You could have kept the position."

"I know. It's my gift to you." She kissed him lightly. "Now, let's get brunch made before our stomachs rebel. It's been a long time since we fed them."

"I'll be right back." He strode out of the kitchen.

Raising an eyebrow at his abrupt departure, she reached along their bond and smiled. He was up to something and pleased about it. She turned her attention to the hamburger she needed to make patties out of.

He trotted back into the kitchen. "I ordered these from the 'Toga and had them sent to your parents. I brought them with us."

Turning around, she saw that he held out both hands, fists closed. He opened one and revealed a Swiss Army knife in matte black with Silver engraved on it. Opening his other hand showed an identical knife with McQueen engraved into the handle.

"Ty, it's lovely." She immediately picked it up and started going through its many modes, finding that its action was very smooth. "Excellent quality, too." Spotting the maker's mark, she grinned. "And it's really Swiss, too."

"Top of the line, love." He slipped his into his breast pocket. "Your other present should have been delivered to your parents' house by now."

"And I have a gift or two for you there too. In my room."

"Maybe we should head back a little earlier." He remembered the time they'd spent in her room.

"It's 1100 now. Do you really want to?"

He hesitated, reluctant to really lose their time alone together, but there were some things he wanted to do before leaving for the war again. "Yes."

"Pick the time, then."

"How about after we eat?"

"So be it."

McQueen stood in the dusk, waiting for their transport to arrive. His gaze kept straying to where Lysa stood with her parents and Cassie, hugging them good-bye. Just beyond them Wang exchanged a tearful farewell with his mother and somehow managed to face his father with a straight back and calm demeanor. Nearby hovered Damphousse, anxious about Paul. The rest of the 5-8 stood behind her. From the house, Ross and Rhonda strode out, talking and holding hands.

Smiling and shaking his head, McQueen knew from a brief talk with his friend that Ross and Rhonda had taken the time for a brief second honeymoon. Rhonda had given her blessing on any sexual activities Ross might indulge in, so long as it was with only Silver and him. In return, Ross had given her permission to explore her Remal heritage, but that she wasn't to join any circle until he had a chance to meet them personally.

"Ready to go?"

McQueen gave Patrick a nod. "Yes. There's a war to be fought and now I have a reason to fight and come out the other side alive."

"Come back to us, T.C." Patrick smiled sadly.

"I will."

Solemnly, Patrick said, "I'll hold you to that."

Realizing he had just made a binding oath, McQueen nodded. "And I'll bring her with me, I promise."

"I know you will." Patrick gave McQueen a wistful smile. "Take care of you both."

He knew Patrick wanted to hold him one last time, but felt constrained to stay away physically. "Come here." He hugged Patrick tightly, breathing in the scent of raspberries. "Have you said good-bye to Russell?"

"Yes."

"Good." Releasing him, McQueen said, "Take care of yourself."

"I will." Patrick strode away, back straight.

"Colonel Dad?"

"Yes, Private Daughter?" He smiled at her.

She flung her arms around him, squeezing him as if her life depended on it.

He felt her breathing hitch. "Hey, no crying. Marines don't cry when saying good-bye." He patted her back gently.

"I'm not a Marine yet," she sniffled.

"Keep working on it." He ruffled her hair. "Just do me a favor, ok? No bunny slippers. I'd never live it down."

"Ok. No bunny slippers it is." Cassie let him go and stepped away.

He was wondering what else he should have told her was on the 'don't send' list when Silver stepped up beside him. "Well, love, ready?" She ran her hand up his arm casually.

"As ready as I'll ever be. To paraphrase W.C. Fields, you wouldn't happen to have a snake on you?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No, but I could scare one up if you wanted to try out that new stimulant holder." She laughed softly.

Patting his left back pocket, he grinned on feeling the engraved steel hip flask she had given him, filled with Patrick's best Scotch. "I'm sure I can think of a reason to sample it. Perhaps during a movie marathon." Tucked into his sea-bag were ten optical disks with every movie W.C. Fields, Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton had ever done.

"Perhaps."

The sound of the transport's engines reached their ears and she looked skyward. The fading light caught the emerald chips in the hair clip he had given her, reminding him of her eyes, darkened with passion. He smiled, pleased.

MacIntyre stepped out of the house as the ISSAPC landed. "All right, folks. Let's get this show on the road. We have a war to fight. And win."

As the military personnel turned their backs on the civilians and started boarding the transport, McQueen paused and looked around at the darkening sky and the surrounding landscape. He thought, "Yes, I _will_ return. Come Chigs, AIs, hell or high water. I _will _return to this place."

He boarded the ISSAPC, ready for whatever the universe threw his way.

Finis


End file.
